A Worthy Warrior
by firefly.1212
Summary: The Just King is not one to fall in love on a whim. But there's just something about that red-haired Dryad girl that he can't quite put his finger on... Edmund/OC
1. A New Dawn

**A New Dawn**

Summer came as a blessing to Narnia. A great evil known as the White Witch had once subdued the magical land to a hundred years of nothing but snow and ice. The Narnians had almost given up all hope of seeing the sun again. Then, four strange creatures mysteriously appeared in Narnia. Their arrival set off a chain of events that eventually led to the fulfilment of an ancient prophecy.

'_When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone, sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done.'_

Five years passed and by then every inhabitant of Narnia - be they Talking Animal, Faun, Centaur, Dwarf or Spirit of the forest - knew of the glorious battle at Beruna where the White Witch was finally defeated by the Great Lion, Aslan. The four humans became the four Kings and Queens of Narnia and everyone could at last breathe a sigh of relief.

* * *

The beach overlooked by Cair Paravel was one of Zia's favourite places to spend the summer months. She could sit on the sand for hours on end, watching the tide wash lazily in and out. Her thoughts became as wispy as the little puffs of cloud gliding lazily across the endless sky. Until -

"What do you suppose it's like inside Cair Paravel?" she asked of the creature stretched out beside her.

This creature was a Fox – a talking Fox, as it happened. He went by the name of Breejit and was Zia's closest friend. He was used to her questions being directed at him, especially questions he wasn't certain of the answer to. This particular question broke the half hour long silence the Fox had previously been enjoying. He sighed quietly enough for Zia not to hear and prepared a reply in his head that mainly consisted of logical guesses.

"I imagine it's full of marble pillars and statues, as well as jewels and fine furniture. Also, I expect the views are simply delightful. Why do you ask?"

The girl shrugged, reaching over to scratch Breejit's ears. He closed his eyes and made a pleased humming noise in his throat.

"I should love to see inside someday."

The comment caused Breejit to bark in a way that sounded as though he were laughing. "I doubt that will be possible. Their Majesties have no reason to interact with lowly citizens such as ourselves," he said humbly.

"Well I've heard from Tumnus that Their Majesties are extremely friendly and chivalrous toward anyone they meet," she retorted.

"Maybe there is hope, then," he conceded, if only to prevent an argument. Arguments were a regular occurrence between the pair. Dryads were notoriously quiet and peaceful beings, but Zia seemed to be the exception.

Done with talking, Zia lay back on the sand, crossing her arms behind her head. The sky above radiated a magnificent sapphire, the ocean below merely a few shades darker. How she'd missed summer. Her poor tree would never quite regain its original colour and pride after being beaten and battered relentlessly by cruel winter winds for over a century.

Both Fox and Dryad fell back into contented silence, each wrapped up in their own dreamy musings. Zia started to build up a picture of what Cair Paravel looked like in her mind: marble pillars, glass ornaments; huge, spiralling staircases lined with precious stones, four-poster beds and gauze curtains, cutlery made of solid gold. Meanwhile Breejit wondered upon the whereabouts of the dog collar Zia had fashioned for him out of a couple of vines. He sincerely hoped it was somewhere nobody would ever find it. How he loathed that wretched thing. He rarely bared his teeth at anyone, but if she attempted to place the collar around his neck one more time he would not hesitate to tear it to shreds.

A sudden change in the wind carried an unfamiliar tang to Breejit's nose. The burn was unlike anything the Fox had come across before, and he always had a bad feeling about unfamiliar smells. Sitting up, he urgently bumped Zia's arm with his nose.

"What is it?"

"Something's coming; I don't recognise the scent." He lifted his muzzle again. The tang was stronger now – whatever creature it belonged to was definitely headed their way. "Hurry, it's coming closer!"

The pair swiftly scrambled for the cover of the woods. Dead leaves and pines cooled Zia's bare feet after the hot sand had scorched them. She had only taken a few steps into the dappled shadows before coming to a halt. As Breejit's russet tail disappeared into the undergrowth, Zia slowly turned around. If she remained out of sight, surely it couldn't hurt to look?

During the time they had been there the sun had dipped lower in the sky and had now almost merged with the horizon. As she crouched behind a tree trunk, Zia heard casual footsteps coming from the north and, seconds later, the thing Breejit had sensed came into view.

The newcomer was not unlike her in body, although this one was clearly male. Perhaps he was another Dryad or a different kind of forest Spirit? He moved in the same way she did: upright and on two feet while his arms swung by his sides. He stopped a little way back from the shoreline and stared out at the ocean, standing as if made from stone. All she could see of him from where she crouched was a black silhouette framed by flaring orange rays. The shape of him was familiar, so why wasn't his scent?

A quiet rustling came from beside her, causing her to start as Breejit emerged from the undergrowth, nose twitching and ears flicking uncertainly.

"Zia, what are you doing?" he demanded in a hushed voice.

"Bree, look," she whispered, pointing.

The creature didn't look nearly as strange as he smelled, Breejit thought as his gaze followed the direction of Zia's finger. He looked like a Dryad or Nymph but the smell was all wrong. It made him nervous to not be able to place the strong, vaguely salty stench this thing was emitting.

"What if it sees us?" he hissed at Zia. Her eyes were once again fixed on the beach and she seemed to have half-forgotten his presence.

"I don't think _he_ knows we're here," she murmured back. "But doesn't he behave oddly?"

The stranger was now knee-deep in the water, wearing nothing but his breeches. The rest of his clothes lay in an untidy pile where he had previously been standing. As they watched, he strode confidently forwards until the water lapped at his slim waist. He paused a moment before ducking beneath the waves with all the grace and fluid movement of a dolphin. It was a while before he resurfaced and his reappearance was only brief. He was gone again in a matter of seconds.

"Oddly but fascinatingly," Zia amended, tilting her head. She had never seen anyone bathe like that before - with half their clothes still donned. Wouldn't it make more sense to wash in the river, where the water wasn't full of salt?

Breejit's tail flicked back and forth anxiously. He did not like or trust this creature one bit – its very presence made him jittery. His instincts warned him that the distance between himself and whatever this creature was wasn't nearly large enough.

Zia sensed her friend's nervous bristling but did nothing about it other than roll her eyes. Breejit was too over-protective and worried too much for his own good. The stranger had done nothing that even remotely suggested he meant to cause harm.

Her legs were just beginning to throb from the awkward position she was in when the figure emerged from the sea, shaking droplets from his glistening hair. As he trudged towards his clothes, Zia and Breejit ducked behind the tree safely out of his line of vision. They listened as his footsteps made their way towards the forest, thankfully in the opposite direction to their hiding place. Breejit let out a troubled whine and pushed at Zia's knee with his paw, urging her to come away, but she paid him no attention. Her mind was reeling with so many questions that one was barely distinguishable from another. She longed to follow the stranger, and was held back only by the thought of the consequences she would have to face and by Breejit's claws digging into her thigh.

Pushing the Fox gently away, Zia leaned round the tree just in time to watch the oddity disappear from sight.


	2. Into The Unknown

**Into The Unknown**

"Zia? Zia! For Aslan's sake, will you _please_ just listen to what I'm trying to tell you?"

The exasperated cry broke through Zia's thought clouds. Swinging her legs over the branch she was perched on, she leapt nimbly down from her tree to land in front of a Fox whose patience was wearing thin.

"Calm down, Bree," she smiled, mussing the russet fur sticking up from the top of his head. "You'll wake the whole forest."

It seemed the forest was already awake, although the moon glowed at its peak point in the inky sky. Cicadas creaked, crickets chirped and several small animals could be heard nosing about in the shadows. An owl hooted overhead before unfurling its wings and gliding silently into the night.

"I'm just a little concerned," Breejit said as the Dryad seated herself at his side, nestled comfortably against the trunk of the tree. "You've done nothing but daydream about that thing on the beach since we got back to the Grove."

'The Grove' was its inhabitants' nickname for a large group of trees that grew so close to one another that each only just had enough space. Located almost at the very heart of Western Wood, the Grove was hidden away from the outside world. Zia had been born in the Grove - her tree had grown from a seed carried there by a breeze from who knew where – and she had been raised by the Dryads who already called the Grove home as one of their children.

Zia shot him a look. "Have not."

The Fox met her defiant stare with a gentle brown gaze. "Your thoughts are not difficult to fathom," he said gently.

Zia sighed, picking out a leaf entangled in her thick red hair. She inspected it for a moment and then gently blew it away from her fingers. Her eyes followed it as it fluttered to the ground a little way off.

When the Dryad didn't answer him, Breejit pressed on. "We don't know what it is, what it wants or whether it's here to hurt anyone. I have a very strong feeling we should just stay away from it."

"I'm merely curious about him," Zia murmured. She leaned her head back against the tree. She suddenly felt tired, as though the short conversation had drained away all of her energy.

"All the same, it won't do to dwell on this any longer," the Fox replied softly. He laid his head on his best friend's lap and she shifted to tuck his small body under her arm. Breejit curled his bushy tail around his little black paws to keep them warm and that was where the two friends fell asleep.

* * *

The following evening, Zia knelt in almost exactly the same spot she had occupied the day before. Despite Breejit's nagging (there was simply no other word for it), burning curiosity and outright stubbornness made her determined to catch another glimpse of her dark stranger. She wasn't disappointed. As the sun leaked fluidly into a calm ocean, Zia heard feet crunch rhythmically along the sand and her stranger came into sight. She watched him repeat the exact actions he had carried out the previous day, finding she was unable to look away. There was something about him - she didn't know what - that excited her.

As before, Zia retreated behind a tree when he made his way back up the beach. She waited until the dark forest had completely swallowed him before rising to make her way back to the Grove, but something made her pause. Without Breejit, there was nothing to stop her following him. The other Dryads might be irritated when they found out she was missing, but she wouldn't have to tell them what she had been doing. It would be a simple thing to say she had merely lost track of time.

Catching up was easy; the stranger moved with such clumsy, heavy steps that she was sure the whole forest could hear him. Now she knew he definitely wasn't a Dryad - he was far too noisy. Zia skipped lightly in his wake, her feet brushing the forest floor with no sound at all. Trees provided concealment should he turn but he was moving too rapidly to hear any slight sound she might accidentally make. The distance between the two of them closed as Zia's confidence climbed. Silent and ghost-like, she could be mere inches from him and still not be noticed. Close enough to reach out and brush her fingers over the deep blue cloak billowing out behind him. Her skin met a soft, alien material. She jerked back in surprise and her left foot came down harshly, cracking a stick beneath her heel.

Quick as lightning, the stranger wheeled around, eyes scanning the woods for a sign of his pursuer. Out of sight, Zia crouched in the shadow of a large oak as her heart fluttered in her chest. She'd been faster than him, but she knew she couldn't let things get that close again. Instinct screamed for her to turn back but she ignored it. When he'd turned, the silvery moonlight had revealed details of his face that she had been too far away to see down at the beach: Pale skin splashed with flecks of brown, gently curved lips and bottomless dark eyes.

This time making sure to keep a good distance between them, Zia moved after the boy as he continued towards his destination. The trees around them were no longer familiar; she had no idea where they were at all. She would still be able to use the stars as a means of finding her way home, so she wasn't worried.

Suddenly, the forest came to an abrupt end. Zia pulled up short – leaving the cover of the trees would mean almost certain discovery. Thinking quickly, she hoisted herself into the branches of the closest tree in order to watch what the boy did next. The half-moon provided barely enough light to see; the imposing stone wall only came to her attention when it brought him to a standstill.

Gripping the boughs on either side of her, Zia leaned as far forward as she dared as he called out to someone on the other side of the wall. There was some quiet clanging followed by the squeaking and groaning of old hinges. A rusty iron gate swung back to let the stranger through. Zia caught the faint murmuring of voices before a towering Centaur dressed in protective armour padded forward to close the gate.

_How strange_, Zia thought. _Stone walls, iron gates, Centaurs dressed as guards..._

Realisation hit her so hard she almost fell out of the tree. Beyond the stone wall was a garden. In that garden there stood a building more majestic and grand than any other in Narnia. The creature that looked so much like her was a Human, that's why Breejit hadn't been able to place the scent. This was some sort of back entrance to Cair Paravel, which meant the stranger was…

"A king of Narnia," she whispered.

* * *

A great babble and commotion greeted her ears when she reached the Grove's outskirts. Zia had walked back through the forest in a daze, but the noise made her lift her head to see that a large group of Dryads had been roused to a state of intense worry, but they all fell silent when Zia came into sight.

A tall, slender figure stood at the forefront of the group, where she had been trying to restore order. She wore a dress woven from the pale pink petals of a blossom tree and a delicate crown of daises circled her head. The hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back shone like silver in the moonlight. When her eyes found Zia's, she was torn between boldly returning her stare and ducking her head in shame. She had shared a special bond with Nina since Zia was a sapling. It was because of their sisterly relationship that Zia hated to disappoint her, not because Nina was the Empress of their clan.

The scolding she received was not as intense as she had expected. Nina's tone was firm but kind as she reminded Zia of the rules against wandering too far from the Grove at night – the rules that had been put in place shortly after Zia had learned to walk. Nina held her finger under Zia's chin as she spoke, forcing her to look into her face and not at the floor as she so desperately wanted. When she had finished, Nina tucked a strand of hair behind Zia's ear and pushed her gently in the direction of her tree, urging her to get some sleep.

A little while later, Breejit came and curled himself at the base of Zia's tree. Zia waited until she was certain everyone else had drifted off and the Dryads on patrol were out of earshot before climbing down from the high boughs to sit beside the Fox amongst the roots. She was bursting to tell her friend all about what she had discovered.

"What is it, Zia?" Breejit drawled sleepily when she nudged him awake.

"That creature down at the beach yesterday," she began. "I saw him again today and -"

The Fox was instantly alert. "You did what? What on earth were you thinking?"

"Hold on for a moment," she interrupted. "I know the reason you didn't recognise his scent. It's because he's a Human."

"Human?"

Zia nodded. "And that's not all – he's a king of Narnia."

Breejit's brown eyes went wide. He tried to speak but his jaw merely fell open uselessly, exposing sharp canine teeth and a long, pink tongue. This expression on a Fox would have been comical but the seriousness in the air kept Zia from laughing.

"High King Peter?" he rasped.

"I don't know," Zia admitted.

Breejit began to shake his head so rapidly that his pointed ears flopped about. "You can't tell anyone of this. Not ever. Forget about the king. Forget about all of it."

Zia glared at him. She'd thought that Breejit, her best friend, would have at least tried to understand her interest in this Human. A lead weight settled over her heart, almost making her gasp. Why did her chest suddenly feel so heavy?

Before Breejit could see her cry, Zia scaled the branches of her tree with blinding speed until she reached the upmost heights. The moon bathed the forest in a silvery glow, reminding her of the way the same light had shone through the king's raven hair. She scowled at the half-sphere with all her might, silent tears running down her cheeks.

* * *

By this time, summer had almost bloomed to its full potential and the Solstice would be arriving soon. This day had come to be celebrated with great enthusiasm in Narnia; it felt only right to welcome the warmer months with as much appreciation as possible. Every Solstice evening, the creatures of the forest held a terrific party at Dancing Lawn that continued through the night and well into the following morning. There was food, wine, a tremendous amount of dancing and a glorious Solstice fire to thank Aslan for his gift. The Dryads and their many Nymph cousins played a very important part in these celebrations: they were known throughout Narnia for their taste and skills in decoration. Every member of Nina's clan was required to pull their weight and Zia was no exception.

Two days before the party was due to be held, Zia was sent out into the forest to collect flowers to be made into wreaths for hanging around the Lawn. As always, Breejit trotted at her heels, a wicker basket tied to his back as a means of carrying the collected flowers. The thing slipped and slid around a great deal, much to his annoyance.

Zia and Breejit were entrusted by the Empress herself to keep the two youngest Dryads, a pair of giggly little cherubs named Dahlia and Delilah, out of mischief. The two girls instantly became infatuated with Breejit. The Fox couldn't shake the two tiny fists curled around his bushy pride and joy.

Four days had passed since Breejit's dispute with Zia. The pair had spoken little since and shared not one smile. Breejit hated the tension in the air between them, hated the short, snippy phrases Zia would throw at him if ever he tried to speak to her. She had a fiery temper to match her flaming red hair - the worst days of Breejit's life always occurred when he found himself on the receiving end.

Still, he refused to let her out of his sight as she moved forcefully between blooming bushes. Every so often she would approach him and tenderly lay the delicate blossoms in the basket, her eyes flicking to meet his for a mere second before she straightened and stormed off again. He watched her do this several times before his delicate sensitivity couldn't take it any longer. The next time the Dryad knelt at his side, he placed a staying paw on her knee before she could rise.

"What, Bree?" she snapped. "We haven't got time to hang around."

Dahlia and Delilah looked up from stroking Breejit's glossy rust-coloured fur to listen, although neither had any idea what was being said.

"I'm worried, Zia," he said as kindly as he could. His words stoked the fire blazing behind Zia's green eyes but she didn't try to get up.

"This Human… this _king_… I have a very bad feeling about him."

"Why?" she asked. The word sounded feebler than she'd intended.

Breejit shook his head slightly. "I can't explain it. It's as though my very being is warning me against ever letting you near him. I fear he'll cause trouble."

"Bree," Zia sighed, laying her hand on his neck. Her fingers covered the invisible dividing line between the russet fur covering his head, back and tail and the creamy white that spread down from beneath his chin to his abdomen.

"You worry far too much, Bree. You have to realise some day that I have to find some things out for myself. You won't always be there to look out for me."

"At least tell me why you're so interested in him," he pleaded. "Then maybe my mind will be more at peace."

Zia frowned. The simple explanation that her interest merely existed because this stranger was new and exciting didn't seem to quite cover the feelings stirring in her chest. Confusion flooded her body as Breejit nuzzled his head into her hand. As soon as she'd recalled the king's face in her mind's eye, her stomach had begun to twist and her heartbeat had sped up. For a moment she thought she was going to die, but then her stomach settled and her heart slowed as if nothing had happened.

What in Aslan's name was happening to her?


	3. A Night to Remember

**A Night to Remember**

At last, the morning of the Solstice arrived. A yawning sun oversaw the finishing touches to the decorations and by mid-afternoon Dancing Lawn was finally ready.

A large space had been cleared in the centre and the surrounding trees were covered in intricately woven chains of every kind of flower that existed in Narnia. Pink lanterns hung from branches and added a pleasant rose tint to the vibrant grass. The Fauns and Talking Animals brought in a steady stream of food and wine to fill a buffet table constructed primarily of expertly-arranged branches that took up most of the eastern edge. The orchestra – made up of particularly talented Fauns and a few musical Nymphs - had their stage positioned on the west side and they busied themselves with preparing their instruments, filling the air with random warm-up notes.

As this was a formal occasion, Zia was required to wear a dress instead of her usual slouchy shorts. The Empress personally tailored Zia's Solstice outfit every year; this year's dress was made of oak leaves of the darkest green sewn together with minute, delicate stitches. The sleeves were long and hugged Zia's slender arms. The dip of the neckline revealed a fair but modest amount of her tanned skin. Feathers of the purest white shimmered like the finest jewels at the collar and cuffs.

Although she would never admit it aloud, the gown was the most beautiful thing Zia had seen in her life.

"Oh Zia, you look beautiful," Nina cooed, fussing with the hem for the fiftieth time. She had twisted Zia's hair into an elegant knot at the back of her head, securing it with spider's silk and tiny white flowers. Her skin was soft and glowing from the oil she had been made to slather herself with. Neither she nor Nina wore anything on their feet – Dryads only saw shoes as a hazard.

Zia looked down at the closest thing to a sister she would ever have. Nina was effortlessly beautiful: her hair as fine and pure as silk and her eyes a shade of blue not even the ocean could achieve. She carried herself with a natural poise and grace that Zia couldn't mimic even if she practised for years. The Empress' voice was as soft as a feather caressing a baby's cheek, her smile warm and gentle like a mother's. Next to her, Zia felt about as beautiful as an ogre.

A sunny afternoon gradually drew in to a warm, muzzy evening. Fireflies flitted around the Lawn like tiny flames, occasionally settling on a flower or a Faun's horn. The whole scene sent a shiver of warmth through Zia's body as she drank in every tiny detail.

"I think we really outdid ourselves this year," Breejit commented. The Fox was covered head to toe in flowers and leaves so that only his eyes and muzzle could be seen. Dahlia and Delilah had ambushed him while Nina was busy dressing Zia. He looked ridiculous but didn't want to shake the garments off for fear of upsetting the little girls.

A crowd of Fauns swarmed around Nina as soon as she arrived with her three wards. Fauns had a special liking for all Dryads, but Nina seemed to be their favourite. The two little ones were thrust upon Zia as the Empress was spun away by her first lucky dance partner, laughing as she went.

Zia heaved a deep sigh. She'd wanted to at least get a couple of dances in before she was entrusted with babysitting duty. Dejected, she led the two children over to an arrangement of cushions made into a makeshift sitting area next to the buffet table. Her skirts had to be arranged so that they wouldn't crease before she sat down – dresses were so irritating.

Sullenly, she watched everyone else enjoy themselves. Nina effortlessly switched partners after each song, her gossamer hair shimmering as she danced. She was nimble on her feet even for a Dryad, and she left the Fauns gasping for breath whilst her own breathing never altered. Her latest partner seemed to be holding up well, but he had no hope when the music picked up its pace. When the song ended, he bowed to Nina and kissed her hand - Fauns were such flirts. Then he stumbled drunkenly towards a cushion next to the one Zia occupied. The lantern light cast a lovely pink glow across his ruddy face as he collapsed.

"Tumnus!" Zia exclaimed, recognising her old friend.

"Evening, Zia," the Faun gasped breathlessly.

"Having a good time, I see," she teased, handing him a goblet of wine which he drank gratefully.

"It's my favourite night of the year," he said, a faint blush adding to the build- up of colour in his cheeks. "On the Summer Solstice we Fauns can finally make an effort not to look like fools in front of you evasive Dryads."

Zia slapped his arm playfully. "Tumnus, Summer Solstice isn't just about wooing Nina, you know."

Now his goat ears turned pink to match the lanterns. "Of course I know that. It's about… What is it about, again?"

She was about to reply but a sudden commotion at the edge of the Lawn distracted her. It seemed someone new had arrived, someone unexpected. A welcoming chorus of trumpets erupted out of nowhere, making her jump. The babies began to cry and clutch at Breejit. He tickled them reassuringly with his tail. Confused, Zia craned her neck in a vain attempt to see around the cluster of people. Catching sight of Nina, she was further bewildered by the slight crease between the Empress' pale, slender eyebrows. The gears in Zia's head worked furiously but she couldn't make the pieces add up. What was going on?

Suddenly, all became clear when someone bellowed: "Their Majesties, the Kings and Queens of Narnia!"

The whole Lawn erupted in applause as Nina's eyes met hers. An emotion Zia couldn't place flashed in her sapphire irises and she was hit by the premonition that Nina knew about her moonlight expedition several days before.

Meanwhile, the excited crowd finally parted. Zia's eyes tore away from Nina's unsettling gaze and landed almost instantly on a pale figure with a shock of midnight hair. The King was dressed in a fine blue silk tunic, white breeches and boots that covered everything up to his shins. A deep blue cloak was draped over his shoulders and fastened by a silver clasp at his throat. A sword hung by his hip and a silver crown glinted atop his head. Seeing the ornate jewellery caused Zia's gut to clench.

The smallest of the four newcomers – a girl with a circlet of silver leaves perched on her head – let out a little squeal and scurried to Tumnus. The Faun welcomed her with open arms and a glowing smile. The affection between the pair was obvious and Zia thought back to the times when she had listened to Tumnus talk about the youngest Queen. Even then his eyes had softened at the mention of her.

"My subjects," the tallest of the four - this one adorned with a magnificent golden crown - called over the din. Everyone instantly fell silent and their faces grew respectfully solemn. "My siblings and I have heard much talk of your festivities on the Summer Solstice. We hope that none of you object to our attending them this year." Bright blue eyes that rivalled Nina's caught the light of the lanterns; in them shone the nobility and courage of a warrior.

Everyone else exploded into loud cheers and the music started up again. Tumnus and his new companion were two of the first to begin the new dance, both of them bearing enormous grins. Another Faun offered the other Queen his arm and the golden King was quickly spoken for by one of the Nymphs.

An unfamiliar sickening feeling churned Zia's stomach as she watched another Nymph - this one she knew as Pelerine - offer her hand to the dark-haired king. Pelerine was extremely pretty: the colour of her hair rivalled that of a setting sun, her figure was slender and curved in all the right places. Her eyes were a vibrant shade of purple – an uncommon trait amongst Nymphs – and she knew how to flutter her long eyelashes just so.

Nina threw Zia a disapproving frown as though she could hear her teeth grinding together in frustration but Zia paid no attention. She refused to calm the waves of hostility she was mentally hurling at Pelerine. Her message was not received or else was flatly ignored. The last straw came when Pelerine ran her devious talons through the King's dark hair, smiling so coyly that Zia felt her blood run cold. Pelerine was like a Venus flytrap, sweetly enticing the poor young King into her clutches. She had to do something, and fast.

As soon as the song finished, Zia whipped the hem of her dress out of the way of Breejit's teeth and walked away as fast as possible without running. The Fox made to follow her but Dahlia and Delilah each still had a firm grip on his tail. He was pulled back with a startled yelp and received several sharp taps on the nose from chubby fingers. Zia reached the pair just as the King politely touched his lips to Pelerine's knuckles. As he straightened, Pelerine's head turned slightly, her violet eyes narrowing as she noticed Zia. The air between them crackled, and Pelerine's lips drew back over her teeth in a vicious smirk. Zia lifted her chin and tightened her jaw, refusing to be intimidated.

"Oh I say, Edmund, isn't this wonderful?"

The voice broke the tension with an almost audible snap. The youngest Queen was suddenly standing beside her. Her arm was still threaded through Tumnus' and they were both flushed and breathing heavily. The Faun grinned at Zia whilst the girl wasn't looking. She had never seen him so happy.

"I'm glad you three talked me into coming," Edmund replied. He beamed first at his sister and then at Pelerine. Zia's fingers curled into fists that she hurriedly hid behind her back.

"I don't believe we've met," the Queen said to Pelerine. "I'm Lucy." She extended her hand to the Nymph and both Pelerine and Zia stared at it in confusion.

Laughing, Lucy withdrew her hand. "Oh, I forgot. Anyway, it's great to meet you. It's simply lovely that Ed has made a new friend so quickly. What's your name?"

The Nymph answered and, now that she thought about it, Zia realised she had a horribly nasal voice that made her sound incredibly snooty and smug. She was still hanging frustratingly off Edmund's arm.

"And what's yours?" Lucy asked, turning to Zia.

The question startled the Dryad out of her fuming. The four of them stared at her expectantly as though she were about to give an important speech. Tumnus came to her aid when he realised his friend was not presently able to speak.

"Your Majesties, allow me to introduce Zia. She is a great friend of mine and a pleasure to know." No one but Zia heard Pelerine's spiteful snort.

"Well, any friend of Mr Tumnus is a friend of mine," Lucy said cheerily, beaming widely. "And how many times do I have to tell you, Mr Tumnus, just call me Lucy!"

Zia suddenly became acutely aware of King Edmund's eyes on her face. Meeting his gaze only caused her skin to grow hot so she hurriedly looked at the ground.

"It simply won't do to just stand here while there's dancing to be done!" Queen Lucy exclaimed. She tugged on Tumnus' arm, leading him away with a spring in her step. She really was very enthusiastic.

"Why don't you hurry along, Zia?" Pelerine said. Her tone dripped honey but her pretty eyes shot daggers. Feeling defeated and with a sinking heart, Zia turned away. Gentle fingers closed loosely around her wrist, catching her off guard.

"Would you like to dance with me?"

Zia turned back to the King, a smile as wide as the Great River stretching across her face. The expression twisting Pelerine's features only added to her delight. Huffing, the Nymph dropped Edmund's arm and strode away, tossing her auburn hair as she went.

Now that she was close enough, Zia noticed that the clasp on the King's cloak was in the shape of a lion's head. Suddenly, she remembered the weapon hanging at his waist and jerked away from him. Edmund followed her wide-eyed stare down to the sword on his belt and smiled reassuringly.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "I won't hurt you. I merely brought it for back-up, just in case something happened."

Zia reached out and gingerly touched the sword's hilt. The metal was uncomfortably cold but aside from that apparently harmless and rather beautifully engraved. Realising she was being silly, Zia relaxed. "I hope you can keep up, Your Majesty," she said mischievously, gathering up her skirts in one hand. She had been sitting still for far too long.

Puzzlement drew his eyebrows together for a split second before Zia grabbed his hand - it was contrastingly pale against her tan skin and just slightly cooler - and pulled him into the song. The beat was furious but her light feet easily matched it. She was surprised to find King Edmund's footwork impressive. Then she remembered all the training he had probably been put through. She would have to come up with something more imaginative to get some real fun out of him.

Thinking on the spot, Zia took hold of his other hand. Her bare feet automatically side-stepped round in a circle and she dragged the bemused King with her. He was caught off guard but quick to recover. A new glint in his eyes told Zia he knew what she was up to. After several changes of direction he could perfectly mirror her movements.

Next, Zia used Edmund's arm to twirl herself into his side whilst still bouncing from foot to foot. She barely had time to collect herself before he spun her away and she almost tripped over her own feet. Edmund's grin was huge, taking up half of his face, and his eyes twinkled. Zia stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh.

She was nowhere near prepared when the young King lunged forward, grabbed her waist and lifted her off the ground, spinning her in circles. Colours blurred into one and she could feel her hair coming loose from its twist. Her head span so violently when Edmund released her that he had to grab hold of her again before she toppled over.

Zia was still chuckling giddily to herself as Edmund half-led, half-carried her to join his older sister and a few other tired dancers by the food table. Zia drank gratefully from the goblet Edmund offered her.

"I think you've met your match today," he teased with a smirk.

Zia smiled against the rim of her cup. "You have very talented feet, Your Majesty."

He waved the title away as if it were an annoying insect. "Edmund, please," he said, taking a sip from his own goblet and looking around. "This is some party."

"It's the best night of the year," she agreed.

"I suppose it seems only right to celebrate the summer," he said. Zia got the feeling he was talking more to himself than to her, reliving memories she didn't share. "It was gone for so long…" He seemed to drift off into a world of his own. Zia didn't press him for more but instead remained content to watch reflections of the fireflies dancing in his dark eyes.

"That's an unusual dress," he said, suddenly coming back to the present. "Is it made of leaves?"

Zia nodded, swelling a little with pride at the compliment. "Nina made it for me." When Edmund looked blank, she added, "She's the Empress of my clan. That's her over there, in the blue dress."

As if she sensed their eyes on her, Nina turned her head to gaze at her sister and the Just King. A strange expression crossed her face but it was gone and replaced with a warm smile before Zia could begin wonder at how the Empress' behaviour was growing ever more peculiar as the night progressed.


	4. United

**United**

"Your Empress is very beautiful," Edmund said softly, his eyes fixated on Nina's fluid shape.

"Yes, she is," Zia said a little too wistfully. "She's the most beautiful Dryad I know."

"Aren't Dryads the spirits of trees?"

"In a way," Zia answered. "The forest is our home, we protect it. We are each bonded to a tree by our life."

"So if the tree dies, you'll die too?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "But otherwise it's very hard to kill a Dryad. We don't die from old age or sickness or from being pierced by weapons."

"Hmm… It could be useful to have a squadron of Dryads in the army…" Her eyes grew wide and he quickly added, "No, forgive me. It's not right to ask that of you or even to imply it."

"No, not at all," she said hurriedly. "I'm sure Nina and the others would think it an honour."

Edmund smiled and tipped his goblet in her direction. "I'll remember that, though I hope I won't ever have to take you up on it."

The sun had almost set and the clearing was quickly growing dark. It would be time to light the fire soon. Two small, furry figures materialised and started to pile wood in the centre of the grassy clearing. Zia recognised the round shapes and flat tails of Mr and Mrs Beaver. They waved cheerfully to her and Edmund before waddling out of sight to fetch more of the kindle supply.

"So, what happens now?" Edmund enquired, pouring himself another cup of wine.

"The fire is lit," Zia told him, smiling slightly at the flushed hue delicately blossoming across his pale cheeks. "Then everyone dances around it. It's the best part of the celebration: everyone dances together and the Fauns play their pipes."

"The wood…" Edmund trailed off, an apologetic look in his eyes. Zia saw immediately where he was coming from.

"Oh, don't worry. Sometimes Dryads give permission for their tree to be cut down. It means they can rest in peace and know that their tree has had a good life and is being used to benefit others."

"You Dryads are the strangest creatures I've ever come across," Edmund murmured, gazing off into the shadows spreading between the trees.

"Strange in a good way?"

"Of course," Edmund replied, touching his goblet to hers.

They shared a smile that warmed Zia's body right down to her toes. The moment was broken when the music died down, causing everyone to stop and turn their attention to the stage.

The golden-haired King - who Zia now knew was Peter - stepped up onto the raised platform with a goblet in his hand. Like his brother, his face was a little pink, although whether it was from dancing or the wine was difficult to tell. Regardless, his voice rang out as clear as a bell.

"Now for the next part of the celebrations," he announced. "I am told that this job is usually carried out by the Dryad Empress, but since she is apparently absent tonight -"

Startled, Zia scanned the clearing. Indeed, Nina had completely vanished. Breejit met Zia's gaze, looking as bewildered as she felt. Her friend was now alone – Nina had taken the children with her.

"-I have been granted the honour of lighting the Solstice fire!" Peter finished triumphantly.

The applause was thunderous, despite several of the Fauns casting longing glances at the spot Nina had apparently vacated. There was a great rush to gather the remaining wood and build it into a towering cone shape. It became so tall that several birds were required to help balance the final few twigs on the top.

"What's wrong?" Edmund asked, leaning close so she could hear him over the noise.

Forcing a smile, she shook her head. "Nothing. I just have to take care of something. You should go and join your sisters."

Susan and Lucy were beckoning their brother, both smiling as though they had never known sadness. With one last concerned glance at Zia, Edmund went to them. He was unable to keep a straight face for long, especially when Lucy flung her arms around his waist and jumped up and down with childish excitement.

Zia had almost made up her mind to join them when a wet nose bumped the back of her hand.

"What's going on, Bree?" she whispered, kneeling down in front of him.

"I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea," Breejit replied truthfully. He licked the inside of her wrist in an attempt to comfort her.

"Nina has been acting strange all evening. She kept giving me these funny looks and then smiling like nothing was wrong."

"When she came over to collect the children she looked to be deep in thought," Breejit told her. "When I asked why she was leaving so soon she didn't answer."

A pair of glittering eyes suddenly caught Zia's attention. Pelerine was stood on the opposite side of the Lawn, staring straight at Zia with an unsettling expression. As Zia watched, she tilted her head towards where Edmund was standing with his siblings. She smiled slowly as though challenging her, deliberately taking one step and then another in Edmund's direction.

"What's wrong?" Breejit asked.

"Pelerine," Zia said, narrowing her eyes. "She's turning this into a competition. I'll bet she's got something to do with Nina vanishing."

Breejit put his paws on both her knees. "Zia, no. It's not worth it. You should go and find Nina. Forget about all of this," he pleaded.

"You should have seen the way she was looking at him, Bree. It made my skin crawl. I can't let her get to him, there's no telling what she'll do."

A great cheer rose up as Peter was handed a flaming torch by one of the Fauns. The High King paused to make sure everyone was looking at him before throwing the torch down onto the prepared wood. At once the fire roared into life like a mighty lion, sending up a great cloud of smoke and more applause. The heat from the blaze reached right to the edges of the Lawn. The Narnians that were gathering around the burning wood had their faces thrown into light and shadow. The distinguishing line between the two flickered and danced.

Zia's heart cheered a little at the familiar sight of her fellow Narnians beginning to hold hands in a large circle around the fire, then she remembered Pelerine moving towards Edmund and his empty hand. Panicked, she left a bewildered Breejit behind and darted for the space beside the dark-haired king, reaching his side just seconds before Pelerine. The Nymph's eyes were murderous as she turned on her heel and stalking away for the second time that night.

Zia gladly slid her fingers into Edmund's, relieved at the sight of the Nymph's retreating back. Tumnus held tight to her other hand, with Lucy on his right. Lucy held the paw of Mr Beaver, and then came Mrs Beaver followed by a large family of Mice. Susan was on Edmund's other side, holding the hand of each of her brothers. Peter's other hand was occupied by yet another Nymph. Various others glowered at her jealously.

Edmund saw where Zia was looking. "High King Peter the Magnificent has quite a way with ladies," he chuckled.

A great clattering brought everyone's attention back to the orchestra stand. In his haste to get up there, a Faun had kicked over a lyre and was struggling to right it again. Chuckles and titters sounded from around the circle. Flustered, the poor Faun drew himself up to his full height before speaking out over the heads of the crowd.

"My fellow Narnians, another Solstice fire has been lit. Let us all remember how lucky we are to be blessed with summer again. It is thanks to Their Majesties that we can enjoy our festivities, let us not forget that!"

The pounding of hooves, feet and paws drowned out whatever he was going to say next as everyone in the clearing cheered for all they were worth. Four pairs of eyes glowed with pride. Lucy's happiness spilled over and trickled down her face. Tumnus dabbed away her tears with a white handkerchief and this seemed, strangely, to amuse the girl.

The Faun that had been speaking waited for hush to descend before continuing. "But let us also remember that each and every one of us is governed by the justice and generosity of our true king, who has granted us the fine pleasure of summer once again! Long live Aslan!"

"Long live Aslan!" a chorus of voices echoed ecstatically.

The speaker got down off the platform to quickly be replaced by the orchestra. Everyone waited in silence as they took up their instruments. When they were ready, they were counted down from three by every voice in the clearing. 'One' had barely disturbed the air before the great circle was moving. The dance started off slowly as everyone arranged their feet and then quickly picked up pace until faces were little more than orange blurs. The rousing music stirred something inside the Narnians' hearts - a fierce pride and love for their beautiful home.

Zia was so overwhelmed with emotion that she wanted to both laugh and cry in the same instant. Her hair now flowed freely about her shoulders, red as autumn leaves. Although she had been on her feet for most of the night, she needed to keep dancing until morning. She never wanted to leave the Lawn, never wanted the magic to end. Her heart was fit to burst with affection for everyone around the fire.

After three songs, most people were too dizzy to continue. They wavered and tripped their way to the sidelines and collapsed anywhere there was a space. Zia wasn't even close to tiring. A couple of the Fauns who were still standing pulled out their pipes and began to play along with the orchestra. She still gripped Edmund's hand although it was now slick with sweat.

Pulling him down, Zia whispered in his ear: "Look into the flames."

Shapes were beginning to form in the fire in time to the music. Edmund stopped still to stare.

"How…?" he started.

Zia laughed. "Magic."

As they watched, a trio of flame-Fauns danced to the music, kicking their hooves up in jolly euphoria. They transformed into an army of galloping Centaurs, a Gryphon plucking a fish from the sea with its talons, a knight dressed in full battle armour astride a prancing horse, a soaring phoenix and finally, as the music swelled to a crescendo, a proud lion atop a hill, his jaws open in a silent roar.

Edmund's jaw hung down in shock. Zia giggled at his amazement and twirled him in a playful circle to bring his mind back to the present. He lifted her up again, grinning wickedly as he spun her until she was dizzy. Despite the fact that her vision was teetering, Zia was a lot more balanced on landing than the first time he'd done that. His laugh was all the praise she needed.

"Mind if we swap partners?"

The voice belonged to Tumnus. He was stowing away his pipes as he fixed Zia with a stare that held an inexplicable emotion. Lucy was by his side, still smiling and apparently still full of energy.

"Of course not," Edmund replied, beaming at the Faun. "But be careful, this one will wear you out."

Indignant, Zia grimaced at him. Edmund chuckled and lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss across her knuckles. Before she could get too flustered, Edmund dropped her hand and offered his arm to Lucy. The young Queen shook her head and grabbed the hand Zia had only just let go of before dragging her brother away.

Tumnus smiled ruefully. "That girl is always so happy about everything, even with all the responsibility of being Queen and the stresses of living with three older siblings. I've never seen her without that smile."

"She is rather keen," Zia agreed. She offered him her arm. "Shall we?"

"Actually, do you mind if we take a break? I wish to talk with you alone."

Puzzled, she did as Tumnus asked. He took her into a quiet corner and stood close enough so that the fur on his legs brushed against her dress. His eyes showed concern and a little urgency.

"Tumnus, whatever's the matter?"

"I'm worried," he whispered.

"Worried? Why?"

"About Empress Nina," he admitted, blushing. "She looked very strange before she left earlier. What's wrong with her?"

"I wish I knew," Zia sighed. "But I think it may be something to do with King Edmund."

"What could she possibly have against His Majesty?"

"I really don't know. I can't see anything wrong with him at all."

The Faun covered Zia's frail hands with his big, warm ones. "Are you growing attached to him?" he said softly.

Zia smiled ruefully. "Everything has been so out of control lately. I don't think Edmund will be able to tell me apart from any other Nymph after tonight."

"Zia, no one could forget you if they tried," Tumnus said kindly.

Her smile hid the sickness that twisted her stomach. "I'll go and find Nina," she promised, and pushed his hands back towards his chest. "Go back to Lucy."

Breejit was waiting for her by the northern entrance to Dancing Lawn. He had witnessed her conversation with Tumnus and seen the distress on her face. Wordlessly, he trotted after her as she half ran from the Lawn. As soon as she was fully enclosed by bleak, shadowy trees, she broke into a hard and fast sprint, attacking the earth with her feet.

Try as she might, she couldn't shake off the knowledge that she had let Pelerine win. She'd had nothing against the Nymph until tonight, but for some reason she felt an overwhelming need to be near Edmund at all times. After all, she had gotten there first - she had spent days thinking of little else but the mysterious stranger she had seen on the beach, and everything had seemed wonderful when he had asked her to dance with him. But now that Pelerine had him it seemed unlikely she would let him go until she was sure Zia had given up hope.

It was ironic that she'd chosen the Just King to grow attached to: everything was far from fair.


	5. Childhood's End

**Childhood's End**

Pure instinct guided her past the Grove and onward into the gloom. As she ran, the forest gradually began to thin. Tall oaks gave way to enormous willow trees. Their long limbs hung at naturally crazy angles, some almost brushing the floor. Amidst these elegantly twisted trunks a spectacular lagoon shimmered in the moonlight. In the distance, the sound of crashing waves was like a long-forgotten lullaby.

At last, Zia paused to gulp air into her deprived lungs. She could go longer without breathing than a human could - she was the essence of a plant, after all - but there was still a certain point at which a lack of air became too uncomfortable to bear. Several panting gasps later, Breejit skidded to a stop at her side. His tongue lolled out as he collapsed, russet sides heaving rapidly.

Zia's torn, filthy skirts swished around her ankles as she crept toward the lapping water. The trees whispered of withheld secrets and tranquil meditation. This was a place where time drifted so that it barely existed at all. Zia knew Nina was here somewhere - the Empress had an affinity with this place. Her presence was almost tangible in the still, calm air. The only light came from the reflection of the Solstice moon glinting off the gently rippling surface of the lagoon. Zia moved through caressing shadows until she caught sight of a woman's figure sitting against a willow that seemed more regal than the rest and grew closest to the water's edge.

Unease gripped Zia's heart and her steps faltered. Somehow, deep down, she felt responsible for ruining the Solstice – for Nina and for herself. She was about to turn and slink away to wallow in her shame but Nina lifted her head and their gazes met. She raised her hand and beckoned with one long, slender finger. With her soft, curving features and round cheekbones, Nina almost perfectly resembled a delicate white rose. Even her intense blue eyes had now dimmed into something softer - an open, gentle understanding that somewhat soothed Zia's qualms.

With no words spoken, Nina invited Zia to sit beside her against the willow tree. Zia felt her eyes steadily take in the tattered state of the ball gown she'd worked so hard on. Her shoulders slumped under the weight of her shame and she pulled her knees towards her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible as she opened her mouth to explain.

"I didn't mean to," she blurted, digging her fingers into the sand. "It's just that Pelerine was being all snooty and smug and running her hands all over Edm – the King. I couldn't stand it, Nina. I couldn't just sit there and watch her snatch him up like that."

Nina tilted her head curiously. "Why couldn't you? You hadn't met him before tonight." Her tone suggested she already knew the answer, but wanted to hear Zia say it in her own words.

Zia swallowed hard and shook her head, still staring submissively down at her knees. "I don't know," she mumbled.

"Then let me ask you something. Do you believe in love at first sight?"

A week ago, Zia would have been disgusted at the very idea. She'd grown up away from any form of male creature - except for Breejit and Tumnus. Hibernation had caused her to miss a crucial part of her life: when she'd shifted from childhood to adolescence. Her mind was still catching up and still partly fixed in a stage of childish insolence and immaturity. Any sort of affection - besides that of friendliness and domesticity - was still very much alien to her. The pull she felt towards Edmund was something more, she knew that much. The sensation was strange and seemed to exist as a separate part of her that she was unsure how to fully acknowledge. She had no idea what love felt like - but also no idea what it _didn't_ feel like.

"I don't know," she repeated.

"Do you think Pelerine does?"

"I don't know."

With a soft sigh, the Empress held out her arms. Zia crawled into Nina's lap and snuggled into her comforting warmth as though she was still a small child. Nina had changed out of her stunning blue gown into a much simpler dress woven of soft pine needles and decorated with acorn shells. It smelled comfortingly of autumn – a scent that always made Zia sleepy.

Nina tucked Zia's head under her chin and murmured into her fiery hair, "You shouldn't hold a grudge against someone for doing something that you wish you could have done yourself."

Zia stiffened. This was the conversation she'd been dreading. She fought to keep her expression placid as Nina's cool hand cupped her chin, bringing her head up to meet that venerable gaze.

"Is there something you would like to tell me?"

"I…" She didn't even know how to begin. How could she explain something to Nina that she herself did not understand? "I couldn't possibly," she admitted hopelessly.

Unbeknownst to Zia, her reaction only attested Nina's fears. There always came a point in a young Dryad's life when she suddenly found herself catapulted into the early stages of adulthood and with this came an emblematic fascination with males. Having witnessed this destiny befall countless Dryads over three hundred years, Nina had grown wary - even marginally frightened - of the time when another one of her juvenile subjects would be submitted to the physical and mental hardships of growing up.

"You're still young," Nina said, holding Zia's fragile body tighter to her own as if to protect her from the world. "It will take time for you to be in control of your feelings and… urges."

"What do you mean?" Zia asked meekly.

"It is in a Dryad's nature to go after any male creature who takes her fancy," Nina explained, as delicately as she could. "Naturally you will feel confused and conflicted but you, my Zia, are still a child. You cannot fully handle any of that yet. That is why it is best to ease yourself in as slowly as you can so you may be given chance to adjust."

Zia was smart and well used to Nina talking in a roundabout way - one that would spare her feelings but also didn't quite make clear what her actual point was – and understood what the Empress was trying to say.

"You think I shouldn't see him again," she whispered.

"You know I would only ask you to do something if it was for the best, don't you?"

Zia nodded. She had an implicit trust in Nina's judgement, although she sometimes wished it wasn't so circumspect.

"Do not be discouraged," Nina told her, hoping to lighten the burden of their discourse. "The king is the first person you have felt a fondness like this for but I assure you he will not be the last. In time your emotions will become less hard to manage and the men you fall for will, perhaps, be more… accessible."

Zia bowed her head reverently. "I'm sure he will be happier with Pelerine, anyway."

A little voice in the back of her mind reared its incredulous head and demanded to know what possessed her to utter words so foolish but she hurriedly dispelled it. She was not used to giving up without a fight but there was no fight left in her, only fatigue. Never had she been through such an emotional rollercoaster of a night, but Nina wasn't finished with her yet.

Zia felt herself being shifted off Nina's lap, causing her to land in a sleepy, rather ungraceful heap on the sand. Blinking blearily, she tried to drag herself back from the brink of sleep. She peered up at Nina's porcelain face, half-obscured by shadow, and mumbled, "What is it?"

Nina's hand was gentle and feather-light on her shoulder but the emotion in her eyes made Zia sit up straight, suddenly wide awake.

"Nina?" she asked tentatively.

"Zia," the Empress murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind Zia's ear. "Youth is the greatest of life's challenges and also the happiest period of time you will ever experience."

Zia frowned. "I don't understand," she said dubiously. "What are you trying to tell me?"

Nina's soft breath tickled Zia's face as she chuckled. "Dear one, you have much to understand. You are coming of age; you can now begin to learn the ways of our people."

Nina's tone had somehow altered. Now, instead of talking comfortably with her older sister, Zia felt as though she were speaking formally with her Empress.

"I thought… I thought there was nothing more to know?" she stammered, completely confused and a little frightened at the change in Nina. Her eyes were glowing royal blue and her face had hardened slightly, although not nearly enough to be cruel. She looked more like a queen than Zia had ever seen her.

"Child, there is more to know than you ever imagined. You must learn to heal the wounded, to run and climb and to care for the plants and animals of the forest. You must learn to use one of these."

Nina reached behind her and was suddenly holding a bow in her fist, having seemingly produced it from thin air. Zia's inhale was sharp. The weapon brought none of the fear she'd felt at first seeing Edmund's sword, only a fierceness swelling in her chest until her ribs ached. She reached towards the bow, running her fingers carefully over the smooth wood, afraid of breaking such a fragile-looking thing. It was cool to the touch, perfectly arched and seemed to hum with a power far too great for Zia to comprehend.

"Where…? How…?"

Nina smiled softly. "This was given to me when I was your age. Very soon you will be granted with a bow of your own, although first you much learn how to correctly handle one. You may think archery looks simple but it is an art. Bows can be unpredictable - especially when made by dwarves as mine was."

Still partly absorbed in the beauty of the weapon, Zia tried desperately to fit the pieces together in her head. Despite her very best efforts, several gaping holes remained in the puzzle. "Nina…?"

"Yes, my child?"

"I already know how to run and climb," she said. "And I always respect every plant or creature I come across."

"Baby steps, child," she amended gently. "You must become more adept if you are to be a true Spirit of the forest, as well as an able warrior."

"A warrior?"

Nina nodded her affirmation. "But first you must swear eternal allegiance to your Empress in front of as many witnesses as possible. Your life will change forever the moment you speak the oath."

Zia was virtually dumbstruck but managed to force out a whisper of, "Thank you, Your Grace," and tilt her chin in silent deference.

That was the first time she had ever called Nina by her proper title to her face. From that moment she was no longer Nina's burden, no longer a hatchling tucked under her wing. She was old enough to be set free and to regard Nina as nothing less than the royal she was. They would retain a tacit affection for one another but keep it discreet.

"Good luck, little one."

Breejit, having fully recuperated from his earlier exertion, stepped out of the shadows. He solemnly sat beside Zia, both of them facing the Empress. She put a hand on each of their shoulders, murmuring words of blessing in the language in which the Deep Magic itself had been written. Zia barely heard her - her entire being felt utterly swamped by the events of the past few hours. Never could she have surmised the drastic outcome of a harmless celebration.


	6. Creeping Death

**Creeping Death**

Zia was on patrol the night it happened.

Darkness had long since descended over Narnia, although the usual peace remained inexplicably absent. Something sinister lurked in the still shadows – an unknown entity that made Zia glad of the bow resting snugly across her back. Only the crunch of her footfalls and the gentle sound of her breaths coming and going interrupted the eerie quiet – which was what unnerved Zia the most.

Picking her way over tree roots and guided only by the weak glow of a gibbous moon, Zia allowed her thoughts to wander. Lapse in concentration was risky on a night like this - danger could present itself at any moment – but she felt nauseous from the qualms that churned her stomach. Perhaps a distraction wouldn't go amiss.

Randomly, she thought back to that Solstice evening four years ago - the mark of her childhood's end. The memory of sitting on the cool sand by the lagoon was vague and hazy in places. Empress Nina's fierce blue eyes and the luminous Solstice moon were the most prominent features of the scene she conjured in her head.

Since then, Zia had grown in ways she'd never even thought upon before. She was still slender and delicately built, giving the impression that her spine could be snapped like a twig. Save the improved muscle definition on her upper arms developed from handling a bow, not much had changed physically. The major transformation was taking place inside her mind - she was becoming a true Dryad Guardian and Knight of the Forest.

Over the years, she had been instructed in the ways of protecting the innocent and healing the wounded, knowing when to lead and when to follow, when to listen and when to be heard, and masking any raucous urges with a placid expression and unwavering patience (this was the part she'd found most difficult). She was still learning but had already acquired admirable levels of skill, proving herself to be a quick learner and able pupil.

These assets had not come without hard work. Archery, in particular, had proved to be more arduous than she'd bargained for - as the Empress had warned.

_Autumn steadily inched its way through the forest, painting over the green canvas with striking shades of gold and red. Zia's clan began to prepare for the oncoming winter. They saw it as their duty to assist the creatures (both Talking and not) in gathering enough food and preparing their homes so that they would be sustained through the upcoming months._

_Zia had been let off helping out this year. Instead, she found herself standing in the middle of the archers' training ground. It was essentially a large clearing with several sturdy targets set out along one side, evenly spaced to minimize chances of accidental injury. Zia was steered rather vigorously towards one right in the centre by her teacher, Sayalla. Sayalla's build was more of a battle-hardened, experienced knight than a graceful archer – she stood stocky and solid as an oak. Her jaw was square and her mouth firmly set. Dirty blonde hair tried desperately to make an escape from the tight bun scraped at the top of her head. Yet, somehow, Sayalla's features succeeded in appearing just as attractive as the next Dryad in the clan. Nevertheless, her presence was much more intense and fierce. Zia was instantly nervous of her._

_Sayalla handed her a slightly battered training bow. Her eyes were greenish brown in colour and ever so slightly squinty. They ran the length of Zia's body, palpably taking the whole of her in. The scrutiny was uncomfortable – Zia shifted anxiously from foot to foot, unable to glare back as she normally would have._

"_Chin up, child," Sayalla ordered. The command was so sudden that Zia instantly snapped to attention. "An archer never looks down at the ground. How in Aslan's name do you hope to aim?"_ _Zia opened her mouth to protest but Sayalla barked, "The first rule of archery - never lose focus on your target. You lose focus, you miss. Got that?"_

_Angrily, Zia nodded. She did not like this woman one bit._

"_And don't scowl," Sayalla added. "Archers must always appear respectful and proud."_

_Zia's fingers tightened around the bow._

_Although Sayalla was a little brutal, she was a good teacher. First she instructed Zia on how to correctly hold the bow – this part she managed to grasp almost straight away. Next, Sayalla showed her how to stand: sideways on to the target, knees strong but supple, chin always up. Zia was made to practise her stance over and over until she could do it without thinking. By this time, Zia was ready to take the bow and hurl it at Sayalla as hard as she could. It was only after four or five lessons that she was finally permitted to actually try to hit the target. At first it seemed impossible – her arms were too weak and her fingers too stiff to effectively grip the string and draw it back. Her arrows largely ended up falling uselessly to the ground, and were sometimes followed by the bow itself. Zia tried uncommonly hard to hold back her temper, fearing Sayalla's reaction if she lost control of it, but eventually it all got on top of her and she couldn't take it any longer._

"_That's it!" she screamed, hurling the bow down in fury. "I give up! This is positively unfeasible. I'll never be able to do it!"_

_She poised to bring her foot down on the helpless bow and crack it in half under her heel but Sayalla glowered at her in such a way that she froze, foot still in mid-air. Sayalla had been a teacher for going on two centuries and was used to dealing with amateurs - particularly teenaged ones - but never had she met anyone as explosive as Zia._

"_Child," she growled through gritted teeth. "If you break that bow, I swear by the Lion's Mane you will regret doing so."_

_Zia gulped. Sayalla's even but powerful tone and the lethal expression on her face was enough to completely dry up her throat. Shakily, she lowered her foot. Her muscles tensed – something in Sayalla's posture told her to prepare for a fight but the woman made no move towards her._

"_Pick up the bow," she commanded, still in the same quiet, even tone. Volcanoes erupted behind Sayalla's eyes; to disobey now would be like walking right into a lion's den._

_Swallowing hard, Zia did as Sayalla said. She cradled the bow against her chest like it was a small child, utterly ashamed of what she'd done._

"_Now, I'll ask you nicely, once, to stop behaving like a baby," said Sayalla, gazing at her levelly. "You are a respectable young lady and I suggest you act like one. If you choose to disgrace yourself like that again, there will be severe consequences."_

_Zia nodded. For the first time, she found herself subdued to the point of speechlessness._

Back in the present, Zia allowed herself a small, private smile. Although she'd hated Sayalla steadily for months after that incident, she hadn't dared step out of line. She'd also found that with obedience came gentler tones and, after that, a mutual respect between teacher and pupil that allowed Zia's progress to make a rapid ascent. A year ago she had been shocked when Sayalla had presented her with a gift - her very own dwarf-made bow. Sayalla had said that perhaps they had both learned something from the other as she passed the beautiful object into Zia's trembling hands. Zia couldn't see what a woman so unquestionable and passionate could have learned from her but by then she knew to keep her thoughts to herself when it was not necessary to make them heard.

Somewhere in the darkness to her left a bush rustled, though no breeze had touched it. Zia started violently, hand flying to tightly grip her bow. Deft, practised movements meant she had an arrow notched in less than five seconds. Gloom restricted the view of her surroundings – she would only have the enemy in sight when it was almost on top of her. Breathing shallowly, she stepped around in a circle, scanning the darkness in vain for any sight of the disturbance.

Suddenly, she saw something; a small movement in the shadows that clearly indicated a living creature was present. A pair of eyes glinted for a second before vanishing again. Zia held the bow steady, preparing to strike. Whatever it was need only come a few steps closer.

"What are you pointing that thing at me for?"

Recognizing the voice, Zia sagged like a doll. She lowered the weapon just as Breejit's long face appeared from beneath the bracken. He was looking at her incredulously, as though he couldn't quite believe she'd been ready to shoot him.

"What are you doing here, Bree?" she asked dryly, although her heart still raced in her chest.

The Fox had now fully emerged from the undergrowth, allowing Zia to see him clearly. He trotted up to her, eyeing the bow warily. "I came to make sure that you're safe, of course," he answered, as though it were obvious.

Zia rolled her eyes. "I don't need protection." She looked pointedly at the arrow still clutched in her hand – the one that had almost ended up embedded in his chest.

Breejit planted himself in front of her stubbornly.

"Look, Bree," she sighed, slinging the bow over her shoulder. "I've told you before, you don't need to supervise me all the time. Besides, I'm already tense and you make a lot of noise."

He looked indignant. "I do not. Can't an old Fox have any fun?"

This made Zia smile. She decided to humour him, at least for a little while. Plus, she'd be glad of the company – maybe having him there would help ease her nerves.

"All right," she conceded. "You may accompany me. Just this once, though. Next time you're staying at the Grove."

He raised a front paw in a mock salute. The soft _pad-pad-pad_ of his dainty footsteps beside her did soothe Zia's quailing stomach, but only slightly. Her mind still retained the premonition that something horrible would happen. Something they were not expecting. Something that would set off a devastating chain of events. The feeling was cold in her gut and far from pleasant.

They circled the perimeter in companionable silence. Breejit seemed - or else was pretending to be - completely unaware of the unease that prickled the back of Zia's neck. It was a wonder he couldn't sense a change in the air like he had done at the beach, a lifetime ago when she'd first laid eyes upon King Edmund.

_No!_ Zia reprimanded herself internally. _I must not think about him. I only knew him for a short time but in that time he caused me almost nothing but trouble. I should have listened to Bree and just left him be in the first place._

Despite her self-assurance of Edmund's bad influence, keeping herself away from him had not been easy. For the first few days after the Solstice she'd been utterly miserable. Even after months had gone by her dreams remained haunted by his face. At first she'd managed to hold off any urges that demanded she return to the beach in the hope of seeing him, but gradually her will-power was eroded by overwhelming desires. She was not proud of doing so but she'd given in to them once. Just once, she'd stolen away from the Grove when no one was paying attention enough to miss her.

_Finding the way down to the beach was like second nature. Sure enough, he was in the water, still as glorious as the first time. What Zia wasn't prepared for was the twinge of longing that almost tore her open. The desire to go to him was so strong and engulfed her so quickly that she was on her feet and running before her brain could catch up. She'd almost reached the shore, but what she saw next stopped her dead._

_An all-too-familiar head of auburn hair stepped away from the tree that had obscured her from Zia's view. Pelerine's curvy silhouette floated gracefully along the sand like a cloud. She moved to stand in the surf, fiddling with a lock of hair and giggling as Edmund aimed a splash in her direction. He was grinning too, grinning so wide that his teeth glinted in the moonlight._

Breejit watched a look of desperate sadness take over Zia's features. He gently bumped her hand to draw her away from her memories and back to the present. He smiled up at her as best he could with his foxy mouth. She giggled at the attempt and affectionately fondled his ears.

"It'll be all right, Bree," she whispered. He couldn't tell if she was trying to convince herself or him.

"Yes," he agreed, nuzzling into her touch.

Suddenly, an almighty explosion rocked the world and sent both Zia and Breejit tumbling to the ground. Roots and thorns scratched and tore at her hands but Zia was back on her feet in a matter of seconds, searching the shadows. Black silhouettes of trees moved closer together, protecting each other from whatever had caused the dreadful noise.

"What in Aslan's name was that?" Breejit exclaimed.

Zia didn't answer. The niggling in her mind had suddenly intensified. This was it, whatever she'd sensed before was happening now. Why hadn't she acted earlier? Why had she just continued on as though nothing was different?

Another earthquake rumbled and shivered along the forest floor. This time they both managed to stay on their feet. In the distance a red and orange glow flickered between the trees. A dreadful realisation slapped Zia in the face.

"Fire!" she cried. "And it's coming from Dancing Lawn!"

Then they were both sprinting and time seemed to slow down. More tremors shook the forest and they stumbled often. Zia tried to think around the terror in her mind as the flames leaped higher but all rationality was gone, leaving only cold, raw panic. She felt as though she was moving through treacle; an age passed and the Lawn wasn't moving any closer. She pushed herself harder, biting back a cry as pain shot up her legs. Thick smoke burned in her throat, making it almost impossible to draw breath. The heat was tremendous – far greater than any Solstice fire. Sweat itched and trickled down her face. Behind her, Breejit was fighting for breath. They were close enough now that they had to stop or risk being seen.

Ducking behind a thick oak trunk, Zia motioned for Breejit to keep quiet as she struggled to calm her own ragged breathing. Over the sound of the roaring, crackling flames, they could hear muffled shouts. Deep, thundering voices unlike those of any creature Zia knew, occasionally joined by shrill, grating shrieks. Breejit writhed as the sounds abused his sensitive ears. Zia tried to help by covering them with her hands but to no avail.

Zia longed for a glimpse of the monsters that had done this to the beloved Lawn. At the same time, she willed them to stay hidden. Pain clawed at her heart as the first charred remains of a beautiful tree groaned, creaked and crashed to the ground. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a scream – the dying tree let out an inhuman shriek as it fell that seemed to go on forever. Tears streamed down Zia's cheeks but she could do nothing except stare at the scorched carcass, knowing that, somewhere, an innocent Dryad had just vanished into thin air.

The pair knelt, both speechless and rooted, until dawn. The jeers and cackles did not cease for a moment during that time – the noises of triumph made Zia feel sick. At last, as the sky began to pale with the rising sun, the unseen devils quietened. Shadows shrank back and light was cast on the figures. Zia breathed in so sharply that she was sure they heard her. Grotesque, mutilated creatures lumbered out of the trees. Some had twisted, devilish horns skewered into their heads. Others had veined, leathery wings protruding from their backs. They were a mass of hooked beaks, squinting eyes, crushing hooves, wickedly pointed talons and fur matted with something that looked sickeningly like dried blood.

The group stampeded right past their hiding place. For several agonizing minutes Zia was convinced they would be discovered but, as the last one passed and their jeers faded into silence, she and Breejit were still safe behind the tree.

Neither of them spoke as they rose from their stiff positions and made their way on heavy legs to inspect what was left of Dancing Lawn. The scene before them resembled a battlefield - filled with blackened skeletons and desiccated grass. They both choked up with wretchedness as they picked up sticks of charcoal and stamped out any remaining fires. Every Solstice flashed before them at once: merry memories that did not belong amongst the wreckage.

For a while Zia and Breejit walked slowly around the clearing. They trod lightly so as not to disturb the peace, tainted though it was. Zia gently touched the trunk of each tree in turn, murmuring blessings to the deceased Dryads. Breejit did his best to clear up the debris but his efforts did nothing to restore any of the Lawn's former glory. The people would be devastated when they found out what had happened.

With that thought in mind, Zia began to cry silently. She curled up into a ball on the hard ground and hugged her knees as though they were the only things keeping her from flying apart. Breejit nestled into her side, hoping their shared warmth would bring some comfort. If Foxes could cry, he would also have been in tears.

They didn't move as the sun climbed higher and higher. Somehow, the damage looked worse in daylight. Black, brown and grey stood out starkly against spring green. This was supposed to be a happy time; the first few weeks of spring were when the Dryads and Nymphs were at their most cheerful, but the mood would no doubt be severely dampened when word got out of what those hateful demons had done.

"Why, Bree?" Zia whispered forlornly, gazing once more at the graveyard of trees. "Why would anyone do this?"

"I don't know," he replied sadly. "I wish I did. But then, I don't wish to find out." He sighed. "We should probably head back to the Grove. They'll be worried about us and the Empress needs to know what happened here."

"Yes," Zia agreed. "She'll know what to do."


	7. To The Cair

**To the Cair**

They walked back to the Grove cloaked in a heavy silence. As they entered the cluster of trees, Zia felt her spirit strengthen as it always did when she was close to her own tree. Her heart cheered a little but still remained encumbered with the horrors of what she had witnessed. A small gathering of Dryads surged towards them, demanding to know where they had been and why they hadn't returned at dawn. Zia just shook her head in answer to their probing questions.

"I wish to speak with the Empress," she said softly.

When they saw the sombre expression on the girl's face the Dryads instantly backed off. None had slept soundly that night. They had all sensed unfamiliar tremors in the air and disquiet in the forest creatures. The birds in particular could always tell when something was wrong. Their rustling and unsettled chirping had kept everyone in the Grove awake.

Zia found Nina perched in her tree, tenderly running her fingers along the branches and over the leaves. They seemed to shiver with pleasure under her touch. Before Zia could call, Nina's head turned to gaze down at her.

"There is something troubling you, my child." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, my Lady." She bowed hastily to the Empress, as was polite, before beginning her tale. "Last night I was in the forest, carrying out my duties, when a great commotion erupted at Dancing Lawn."

Nina was nodding. "Yes, I rather thought that awful noise couldn't have been thunder. Do continue."

"Well, I went to see what was going on and…" She paused to swallow the rising lump in her throat. "And I saw these… _terrible_ creatures setting fire to the Lawn. They were laughing, like it pleased them to watch our cousins burn and… and _die_…"

Suddenly, Nina was beside her. She held Zia close as the girl tried to pull herself together. She could hear the spiteful cackles and angry hisses like a constant echo inside her head.

"If I may add, Your Grace," Breejit spoke up, "those creatures were unlike any other in this forest and unmistakeably evil. I cannot be sure but I have a horrible feeling that they may be the remains of the White Witch's army."

Nina stiffened and Zia turned to stare down at Breejit in alarm.

"You mean… she's back?" Zia whispered faintly.

Nina shook her head. "No, Aslan made sure that Jadis died once and for all. There is no way for her to return." Despite her firm words, Nina's eyes flickered with uncertainty. "But that doesn't mean that every last soldier in her army was also destroyed."

"Perhaps they seek revenge," Breejit suggested.

"It is almost certain that they wish to avenge their Queen's death," Nina affirmed. "They may target any of us but will definitely seek to kill the Kings and Queens."

Zia was sure she felt her heart falter in its beating. "What are we going to do?"

Nina looked thoughtful for a second and then her eyes began to glow with the makings of a strategy. She shifted so that she stood taller, stronger, prouder. Zia backed out of her arms. It still unnerved her when Nina took on the commanding expression of a royal. Her lovely face became that of a familiar stranger.

"First we must alert the rest of the clan. Hurry Zia, there's no time to dawdle."

Zia hastily followed Nina back to where the other Dryads were loitering, pretending to work or talk in little groups, waiting to see what all the fuss was about. They all stood to attention when they saw Nina. Some curtsied but she waved their formalities away.

"Sisters," she called into the silence. Her voice was not particularly loud but clear, calm and powerful. "The time is upon us - Narnia is once again in grave peril."

The younger Dryads' eyes widened in shock and some of the older ones shifted uncomfortably.

"We must carry out our duties as Guardians to protect our home and the people that rule over it. Zia has told me that an army of ghastly creatures has already destroyed our beloved Dancing Lawn."

More shocked faces and some mutters of disbelief from the Dryads.

"I believe they seek to destroy our young leaders. We must not hesitate to aid them, for they have been favoured by Aslan and have kept Narnia at peace for nine blissful years. There may be a battle, in which some of you may lose your lives." She looked round at each of her subjects in turn, noting the ones that didn't meet her eyes as well as those who stared determinedly back. "But it is our duty to protect that which we hold dear otherwise it may be lost forever. Be brave and be strong sisters. For Narnia!"

The sound of a hundred voices echoing the famous battle cry brought tears to Zia's eyes. She scrubbed them away, hoping no one had noticed. As though a switch had been flicked, the passive activities stopped and suddenly the Grove was a hive of preparation for a possible battle. Before Zia could go and join in the target practise, Nina gently took her aside.

"I'm going to trust you with something, Zia," the Empress said. "And I trust you because I know you won't fail me."

"Yes Empress, anything."

"I want you to journey to Cair Paravel and tell the Kings and Queens what you saw last night. Then I want you to come back and tell me what their actions will be." She glanced around at the flurry of beautiful women practising with their weapons, fashioning armour or sitting sulkily in the sidelines, unable to do anything but observe. "It seems that everyone is already getting excited but we have to know soon whether we really must prepare for battle."

Zia gulped but she wasn't going to allow herself to think about what a trip to Cair Paravel would mean. "Of course, Empress," she said. She straightened herself so that Nina wouldn't be able to guess what had just gone through her mind.

"Thank you. Take Breejit and look after each other. I expect you both to return safely in no more than two days."

Zia bowed. "I shall not fail you."

Nina smiled gently, looking more like the older sister Zia used to know than she had done in years. "I know you won't. Now hurry, and may Aslan watch over you."

Bowing one last time, Zia walked quickly to the place where she had last seen Breejit. She found him with the twins, Dahlia and Delilah. The trio had become almost inseparable over the past four years. The girls began to cry when Zia started to lead the Fox away. He quietened them with soft murmurs and affectionate licks until they seemed to understand that he had to leave but wouldn't be gone forever. He then trotted after Zia and they left the security of the Grove. The sensation in the air was melancholy, as though the forest were mourning the devastation of Dancing Lawn. Even the birds were silent and the trees stood uncharacteristically still.

Although she did not know the exact route to the castle, Zia had the path down to the beach memorised and knew from there she need only head north until she reached the back entrance to the castle that Edmund had inadvertently shown her. As she walked she concentrated on not allowing her mind to wander. Instead, she deliberately thought of nothing at all. Breejit kept glancing at her every so often but she ignored him and continued purposefully onward. This was nothing to do with her and the King - only with the safety of Narnia and its people.

Before they'd even reached the beach Zia abruptly turned to the left and led Breejit back away from the sand, which they could see glimmering through the trees. It was strange how a place that Zia used to love could hold so much bitterness for her now. She fingered the string of her bow to distract her brain from conjuring up images of a grinning King and a smug, giggling Nymph.

Their trek took most of the day. As the sun climbed higher, the temperature beneath the leafy canopy grew ever more stifling. It got to the point when they stopped to rest every half an hour. Sweat itched under Zia's clothes. Breejit's fur was dark and damp, his tongue hung out of his mouth. They stopped to drink at a stream that trickled down towards the sea. Zia gratefully collapsed, taking the bow and quiver from her back and setting them down beside her.

"We'll stay here until it gets cooler," she said to Breejit, who was splashing about in the stream to soothe his tired feet. "We shall both fry alive otherwise."

"Good idea. I should like to get some sleep," replied the Fox. "My poor paws are aching terribly."

So Breejit stretched out in the shade while Zia kept watch, leaning her back against the sturdiness of a thick tree trunk. The bubbling stream and warm air soon had her feeling drowsy. The ocean was not very far off; she could hear the rushing waves in the distance. She had to physically shake herself to keep from falling asleep, but she couldn't battle her carnal needs for long and soon her chin was on her chest and her eyes closed.

An unfamiliar sound broke through the haziness in her head, startling her awake. She reached instinctively for the bow at her side, feeling guilty that she'd allowed herself to fall asleep when they were out in the open and vulnerable to attack. To her relief, Breejit was still asleep beside her, snoring gently. She looked around for something that could have caused the sound but the only creature in sight was a little red squirrel. Its bushy tail twitched as its liquid black eyes locked with hers. They stared at each other, then a twig snapped and the squirrel darted out of sight.

Although she was still tired from walking, Zia got to her feet, bow in hand. She desperately hoped those terrible monsters hadn't found them. There was no way she could fight off an entire army. Another sound came, the unmistakeable sound of footsteps. Moving slowly, Zia reached for an arrow from the quiver and held the bow ready. She took two steps forward as whatever it was continued to come closer. It sounded like there were only two creatures, much to Zia's relief. She could easily handle two.

Suddenly, a shape appeared from behind a tree. Zia hoisted her bow and trained the arrow on the intruder but something about the newcomer made her pause. As she studied it, she realised that the top half of the creature was like a Man and the bottom half was a horse. It was a Centaur.

A breath she didn't know she'd been holding whooshed out of Zia's lungs. Once again, she lowered the weapon and tried to act as though she hadn't been about to launch an arrow at one of the noblest beasts in all of Narnia. The Centaur clopped towards her; the horse part of him was thickly muscled and his coat a rich chestnut colour that shimmered in the dappled light. His tail hung long and sleek and his hooves were a shiny, glossy black. At his waist, chestnut hair transformed into pale skin and prominent abdominal muscles - in fact, the whole of the Centaur's body was protected by impressive bands of muscle. Zia knew she'd have no chance should it choose to attack, but Centaurs were placid creatures outside of battle and were always on the side of good.

The Centaur stopped a few feet away from her. Horsey ears protruded from curly brown hair and dark eyes glittered curiously as he assessed her. Zia had never met a Centaur before. She hoped this one was friendly.

"What is your name, Daughter of Aslan?"

Zia started. She'd never been called a Daughter of Aslan before. She knew the Dryads had been created by the Great Lion but the title was new.

"Uh, Zia," she answered. "What's yours?"

The Centaur ignored her question. He nodded towards the sleeping Breejit, who remained blissfully unaware of what was going on. "And who is that?"

"He's my friend," she replied. She watched warily as the half-Man, half-horse took a few steps nearer. His eyes were rather large and a rich shade of brown. They didn't look hostile, but appearances were never wholly accurate.

"If you don't mind my asking," she said as the Centaur tilted his head, regarding the Fox. "What are you doing here?"

His bottomless eyes gazed into hers and she felt something stir in the pit of her stomach. "I am here for you," he said simply.

"Huh?"

"I heard whisperings of your coming and what happened at Dancing Lawn," he explained. "They said you were on your way to Cair Paravel. I came to offer you my assistance in getting there."

"Why?"

He sighed patiently. "Because our home is being invaded and I wish to put a stop to that as soon as possible. We can't very well get started while we are just standing here chatting, can we?"

"Oh, right." Zia's brain finally seemed to kick start. She moved over to Breejit and shook him awake. He mumbled and groaned at her sleepily. "Bree, wake up. Come on, Bree. There's a Centaur here. He's going to help us get to the castle."

Breejit cracked one eye open and gazed blearily up at her. "Zia, you're going to have to come up with a better story than that. Leave me alone for five more minutes…"

"No Bree, there really is a Centaur."

The Fox just grumbled again and turned over. Zia looked despairingly up at the Centaur. He smiled mischievously, reached down, and picked Breejit up with his large hands as if he weighed less than an acorn.

"Would a story be able to do this?" he asked, as Breejit made a choked rasping sound and flailed his legs uselessly in the air. Zia couldn't stop the bubble of laughter from bursting through her lips as the Centaur lowered Breejit gently to the ground. The Fox looked dazed and completely disbelieving, as though his brain couldn't quite comprehend what had just happened.

The Centaur lifted two fingers to his mouth and whistled one long, piercing note, and a few seconds later a horse came trotting towards them. Its neck was arched, strong and proud and its coat a dark, rich brown. It was easy to tell the horse was of fine breeding. It trotted up to the Centaur and stopped beside him, blowing softly on his hair.

"This is Seren," he said, patting the horse's neck. "She's not a Talking Horse, but is one of the best behaved ordinary ones perhaps in existence. She wandered here from Archenland and now lives with a herd of Talking Horses. She and I met three summers ago and I discovered that dumb horses are not so hard to get along with, after all." He chuckled. "She'll be more than happy to carry you to Cair Paravel."

After giving the horse a doubtful once over, Zia fought back her nerves and climbed onto Seren's back using a tree stump and the Centaur lifted Breejit up in front of her. The Fox's protests were minimal - he had realised that there was no point in resisting this creature's wishes. Zia secured his furry body with one arm and then looked around for some sort of hand or foot hold. There were none.

"How will I stay on?" she asked in alarm.

The Centaur raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think she would allow you to fall? If it makes you feel safer you can hold on to her mane. She won't mind."

Zia did so and Seren pawed at the ground, preparing for a good gallop.

As if to reassure Zia, who was not really looking forward to her first ride on a horse, the Centaur smiled softly up at her.

"My name is Davlon," he said.

Then they were running.


	8. Unhappy Reunion

**Unhappy Reunion**

At first Zia was terrified. The rocking motion was sickening and every stride taken by the horse tested her balance to its very limits. A biting wind stung her face and forced tears from her eyes. She clung to Seren's dark mane for dear life, her knuckles obtrusive under strained skin. Breejit wasn't having a pleasant time, either. His eyes and jaws were closed tightly and his limbs dangled uselessly on either side of Seren's broad back. Even though Zia hugged him to her body so tightly that he could barely breathe, he was sure he would fall and the jarring thud as he hit the ground would be the last sensation he would ever know.

The forest blurred into a confusing haze of greens and browns. Zia blinked away the moisture in her eyes in order to get a clearer view of the surroundings. Her stomach pitched and rolled crazily, but she would choose nausea over blindness. Although this way of travel exceeded her comfort zones by a rather large margin, at least they wouldn't have to walk all the way to Cair Paravel. They would be back at the Grove before sundown.

Soon, Zia began to realise that Davlon was right: Seren would not allow them to fall. The horse's stride lengthened until her passengers were barely jostled. Trees moved aside to let them pass, eliminating the need for them to repeatedly swerve. Feeling more comfortable, Zia slowly sat up, ready to cling on again if she started to slip. She could hear little over the thundering of hooves nor see a great deal, but she was fairly sure she didn't recognise this part of the forest. They must be getting closer.

Gradually, the ground began to slope uphill. Seren's pace slowed a little and her breathing became exerted. Zia craned her neck, hoping to at last catch a glimpse of the castle she had seen only in her dreams. Green obscured it from sight until the last possible moment. The forest suddenly ended and Cair Paravel rose up before them - grand, majestic and glinting in the sunlight.

Davlon stopped outside a pair of huge, intricate black gates. Zia gripped Seren with her knees as the horse slid to a halt beside him. The momentum carried Zia forward until she was almost on Seren's neck. Breejit whimpered softly. Zia gave him a reassuring squeeze in response.

A disembodied voice called out, "What is your business here?"

As Davlon was still panting heavily and presently incapable of speech, Zia cleared her throat. "We bring news from Western Wood." She was unsure of where to direct her answer; the owner of the voice was nowhere in sight. "Something terrible has happened. We wish to alert the Kings and Queens immediately."

"I suppose you had better come in."

There was a brief pause, and then a Faun appeared. He walked stiffly, as though the chainmail he wore greatly impeded him. The shaggy hair on his hindquarters was sleek and shiny. He struggled to shift the hefty bolts that held the wrought iron gates closed. The small group on the other side didn't think he would appreciate being offered assistance – he seemed far too proud. They hung back meekly whilst Zia bit her lip to keep from laughing. Finally, when he was almost purple in the face, the Faun managed to open the gates wide enough for Davlon and Seren's bulky forms to fit through. As she passed him, Zia glanced down at the Faun. He narrowed his eyes and puffed out his chest.

Once they were through and the Faun was fighting to close the gates, Zia and Breejit hurriedly dismounted. Zia's knees were rubbery and barely supported her weight. She staggered upon connecting with the ground and almost fell. Although he too was a little wobbly, Breejit was hugely grateful to feel solid ground beneath his paws again.

A stable-hand materialised to take hold of Seren as the Faun gestured for the party to follow him. They crossed as enormous courtyard and climbed a towering flight of steps before entering the castle. Zia's neck soon ached from turning her head this way and that as her childhood dreams of seeing inside the Cair all came flooding back. The castle was built largely of stone but was in no way intimidating. The corridors were off-white in colour, cool, wide and pleasantly light from the many stained-glass windows. Each one portrayed a different and very colourful scene. Zia was sorry she didn't have time to admire them all.

The Faun stopped in front of a set of tall double doors. Two more Fauns stood on either side, guarding the entrance to the throne room. Both wore red tunics and chainmail, and had swords strapped to their belts. Each held a long lance so that they crossed to form a giant 'X' shape across the doors.

The escort turned to look down his nose at Zia. "Which one of you is coming inside?"

The three of them glanced at one another. "Can't we all go in?" Zia asked. Her insides contracted with nerves.

"Their Majesties are very busy," the Faun replied haughtily. "We don't want to bother them for very long with… _trivial _matters."

Zia had just about had enough of his patronising behaviour. Fauns were usually such humble creatures, like Tumnus. She was about to hurl a retort at him but Davlon gave her shoulders a gentle push.

"She'll go."

Zia turned to stare at him indignantly but found she was already being swiftly ushered towards the doors. The Faun greeted the two guards with a stiff bow. "I bring a visitor for Their Majesties," he said. His face was full of authority and self-satisfaction as he glanced over his shoulder at Zia. She only just refrained from sticking her tongue out at him. "She claims to bring an important message."

Zia looked pleadingly behind her. Davlon made shoving motions with his hands and Breejit gave her an encouraging nod.

The two guards bowed and lifted their lances away from the doors, which they pushed open. Zia gasped at the sight that greeted her: the throne room was enormous, almost as large as the Grove. It could easily hold the whole of her clan and many more. Marble columns spiralled up to the roof, which was made of several thousand pieces of a clear material that channelled the sun's light and threw it in all directions. Zia stared at the fascinating design for a full minute. She was interrupted by the Faun's impatient gesture and obediently hurried to catch up. Her stomach did nervous little flips with each step her feet took towards the four magnificent thrones at the far end of the room. As they drew nearer, it became clear that three of the thrones were empty. Only the one on the far right was occupied. Its owner rose slowly as recognition dawned on the familiar face.

Stooping so that his nose almost brushed the stone floor, the Faun grandly announced, "Your Majesty, this is -"

"Zia…?" Lucy squeaked. There was a brief pause before she scurried forward and flung her arms around the Dryad as though they had been friends for years instead of only having met once. Zia stood awkwardly whilst the Queen hugged her. She would have liked to bow but Lucy's arms restricted her movements indefinitely. Lucy eventually realised this and stepped back.

The Valiant Queen was taller than Zia remembered. Her cheekbones were now sculpted and prominent, her body had grown lean and curved, and her hair hung long and flowing down her back. She had matured into a beautiful young woman, but had apparently lost not one scrap of her exuberance.

"It's lovely to see you but… what are you doing here? Ed says he hasn't seen you since…" She trailed off, looking sheepish.

Zia quickly made her bow and proceeded to relay her tale. Lucy's expression grew from puzzlement to shock and, by the time Zia was finished, her mouth hung slightly open in disbelief. She stared at her for several heartbeats before abruptly turning to the Faun.

"Ruskin, fetch my brothers and sister. Tell them there is a matter of utmost urgency that they simply _must_ attend to immediately. Hurry, now!"

The arrogant Faun bowed again, looking slightly put out. Zia smiled smugly, glad to see him brought down a peg or two.

Once the Faun had gone, Zia said, "If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty, I shall take my leave so as not to get in the way."

Lucy laughed. "Don't be silly! You must have travelled such a long way…" She paused, considering something. "Did you come here alone?" she inquired.

"No. My two friends are waiting out in the corridor."

Lucy wouldn't hear of Davlon and Breejit remaining outside for a moment longer. She made Zia fetch them and presented her greetings with barely-contained enthusiasm. She managed to restrain herself when faced by Davlon; he was a respectable creature, a formidable warrior and very slightly intimidating. He bowed to her by bending his front legs and lowering his head respectfully. Breejit tried to copy his fluid movements but was much less stable and much less impressive on his skinny legs. Lucy practically squealed with delight and enveloped him in one of her surprisingly strong embraces. Zia hid a smirk behind her hand.

Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps informed them that the other three monarchs were approaching. Dryad, Centaur and Fox all dropped down into their respective forms of bowing as High King Peter the Magnificent swept in. He covered the vast length of the room in a short amount of time with his long, powerful strides. Queen Susan followed close behind and King Edmund brought up the rear. As the dark-haired King went by, Zia made a conscious effort not to lift her head even a fraction.

"What's wrong, Lu?" Peter asked in a voice that somehow managed to be commanding and gentle at the same time. None of them noticed the three additional figures until Breejit sneezed, then three pairs of eyes turned to stare at them.

"Lucy…" Peter said dubiously. "Would you care to explain what's going on?"

Lucy repeated Zia's story in such a flurry that some words merged together. Thankfully, her siblings were used to her speaking in a rush and could understand most of what she said. Zia watched their reactions closely. Susan looked purely shocked whilst Peter's smooth brow furrowed into a dark frown. His golden hair shone like a halo in the refracted light, giving him the appearance of a pensive angel. Rather than risk glancing at Edmund, Zia dropped her gaze down to the floor.

Lucy concluded with, "Oh Peter, it's awful! We must do something quickly!" She had told the story in half the time it had taken Zia to.

"Don't worry Lu, we will," Peter assured her before turning to Edmund. It took three attempts of calling his name before Edmund dragged his attention away from Zia. "Western Wood is under your rule, brother. It is up to you to decide what is to be done."

Edmund's voice was like a long-forgotten memory – one that had been forgotten for a reason. "If those creatures really are the remains of the White Witch's army then they will seek to avenge their Queen." Only his siblings noticed the slight catch in his smooth voice as he spoke the name of their old enemy. "They will, no doubt, be on their way to Cair Paravel – soon, if they aren't already. I have a dreadful feeling that they won't hesitate to wipe out innocent lives along the way."

Zia felt the Just King's eyes bore into her but didn't raise her head. Edmund was quiet for a while, debating his options. After about five minutes of apprehensive silence, Peter spoke up.

"It seems only yesterday that we rid Narnia of the Witch," he muttered angrily. "Can we not rest for even a moment?"

Susan laid a calming hand on his arm. "Peace, brother. Give Ed time to work this out."

The silence resumed. Peter opened his mouth several times but a pointed glance from Susan always made him close it again. Lucy shifted her weight from foot to foot. Davlon and Breejit glanced at one another nervously. Zia tried to occupy herself with memorising the pattern of lace on the front of Lucy's dress, but the task was impossible when she fidgeted so.

Finally, Edmund spoke again. To Zia's horror, his question was directed at her: "Do you know how many there are?"

Now that she had no choice, Zia looked up at him. Like Lucy, he was taller and leaner than before. Bands of muscle laced his body - he was not especially brawny like Peter, but his form imitated the graceful, flowing curves of a predatory cat. His gaze was level, but his chin tilted fractionally downwards. So many things about him were different, yet so many were exactly the same. His skin was the same shade of pale, splashed with faint freckles. His hair was black as midnight, although it now curved around his ears to hug his angled jaw. Zia's chest contracted achingly. She tried fixing her eyes on a point above his head but that did little to calm her erratic heartbeat.

"I'm not sure, Sire," she said, trying to sound as impassive as possible. "There were perhaps two hundred at Dancing Lawn from what I could see. There will almost certainly be more."

Edmund pursed his full, pink lips. "If there is an army headed for Cair Paravel then I see no other option. We must fight them."

Suddenly, Zia remembered the other part of her message. She addressed Peter so she wouldn't have to look at Edmund any longer. Somehow the High King seemed much less intimidating than first impressions had led her to believe. Perhaps this was down to the nervous shadow that now humbled his piercing stare.

"Your Majesty, my Empress wishes me to inform you that the Dryads of Western Wood offer their loyal services to your army. We too wish to rid Narnia of these intruders as soon as possible."

Peter started to say something in protest but Edmund cut him off. "Think about it, Pete," said the younger, wiser King, "Dryads cannot be killed by weapons, and I have heard many stories of their dexterity and prowess in battle. We could really use allies like them."

The High King looked at his brother for a long time before conceding. "Very well Ed, I trust your judgement. Tell your Empress that we shall be very glad of your support if this really does end in a battle." This last was addressed to Zia. Peter's blue eyes were warm and bore an uncanny resemblance to Nina's, allowing Zia to genuinely reciprocate his smile.

"I'm afraid a battle may be very likely," Susan added sincerely. "Tell your people to be prepared."

The words sent a chill down Zia's spine as she nodded. Peter started to mull over military tactics; he directed his musings towards Edmund but he barely listened. Lucy's cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright with worry. Susan put an arm around her younger sister and led her away to rest in her chambers whilst she calmed down.

Whilst they were all distracted, Zia took the opportunity to make an escape. She motioned to Davlon and Breejit, who had remained absolutely silent throughout the whole exchange, listening intently. With one last hasty bow to Peter and Edmund, Zia exited the room with her friends in tow.

The chilly air in the corridor alerted Zia to how humid it had been in the throne room. Whether the temperature was due to the presence of the monarchs or the way the roof seemed to intensify the sunlight, Zia didn't know. All that mattered was that she had made it through unscathed. Usually being uncomfortable around beings of a high authority, she was proud of the way she had handled speaking with the Kings and Queens without appearing foolish. Above all, she had survived being forced to lay eyes upon the Just King, and now she would never have to see him again.

Apparently Edmund had other ideas.

Just as they reached the flight of steps leading down from the castle, the sound of footsteps drew the trio to a halt. Looking behind her, Zia groaned under her breath. Edmund was making his way swiftly towards them, urgency written all over his face.

"Is everything alright?" Davlon asked. He sensed the air around Zia crackle as she tensed in annoyance.

_No._"Yes," she replied, forcing her voice to sound cheerful. "Go on and wait with Bree and Seren. This won't take long."

Davlon continued to eye the King warily as he reached them, but the Centaur had been raised to respect a lady's wishes and so did as Zia asked. The Dryad folded her arms across her chest and set her jaw as she waited for Edmund to speak. His dark eyes were brimming with questions, the first of which came out as a feeble mutter.

"Where did you go?"

"I had to leave," she answered curtly.

Edmund winced and his dark eyes took on a wounded expression. "I looked for you," he said in a low voice.

Zia was taken aback – she hadn't expected that. She felt her resolve start to soften as his eyes burned deep into hers, beautiful and sad.

No, she couldn't give in. He had hurt her. She'd seen him with Pelerine and her heart had been crushed. She couldn't forget that pain.

"We only knew each other for one night," she reminded him levelly. "I'm still just a stranger."

She turned to go but his long fingers closed around her wrist.

"Let go of me," she growled vehemently.

"No," Edmund said stubbornly. His grip was like iron. "Not until you tell me why you left."

"I said let _go_!" she snapped, wrenching her hand away from him.

She took off, running blindly down the steps. Davlon waited at the bottom; he had already draped Breejit over Seren's back. With barely a pause, Zia leapt astride the mare. Davlon was beside her, ready in case she lost her balance. She didn't.

"Take us home, Davlon," she pleaded. "Now."

The stricken look on Zia's face prevented the Centaur from asking any questions. He clicked his tongue at Seren and the horse followed him away from Cair Paravel at breakneck speed.

Edmund could do nothing but stand and watch as the Dryad girl sped away from him for the second time.


	9. To Arms

**To Arms**

Seren kept up a thundering gallop even as Cair Paravel was swallowed by thick vegetation. Zia trusted Davlon to guide the horse; her whole body felt heavy with physical and mental exhaustion as the overwhelming events of the last twenty-four hours began to catch up with her. Soon she could barely sit up and Davlon, noticing the state she was in, drew them to a halt. He helped Zia down from Seren's back and she immediately curled up into a ball on the ground, hugging her knees and fighting back the urge to burst into tears. Breejit lay down beside her in silence whilst Seren grazed and Davlon stood a little way off, keeping watch.

After they had rested for an hour without speaking, Zia stood determinedly to her feet and swung herself back astride Seren. Her growing ability to ride something so frighteningly high was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Even Breejit had almost grown accustomed to the rocking motion and the sensation of muscle flexing and rolling beneath him. He still would not ride a horse out of choice, though.

Relief flooded Zia's body when the Grove came into sight. Davlon's presence caused an eruption of mutterings amongst the Dryads as Zia slipped from Seren's back and lifted Breejit down. She immediately sought out Nina as the rest of her clan gravitated towards the newcomers, eventually finding the Empress on the training ground with her bow. Curious, Zia hung back to watch as Nina sent three successive arrows flying towards the target. Each one thudded into the centre of the yellow circle barely a finger-width apart. There seemed to have been almost no effort on Nina's part at all.

"Zia," Her name was spoken softly but Nina didn't take her eyes off of the target in front of her. "Welcome home."

She lay down her bow and Zia took this as permission to approach. The Empress welcomed her with a soft hug and Zia felt cool lips brush her forehead.

"Greetings, my Lady," Zia said formally as she stepped back. "I bring news from the Kings and Queens. They plan to ride into battle and would be honoured to have our assistance."

A troubled look flashed in Nina's eyes but it was gone in an instant. "Thank you, Zia. I have sent word to our brother and sister clans. They will set out to aid us as soon as they can." She let out a gentle sigh. "Battles are such hideous affairs. I was hoping it wouldn't come down to this."

The sadness in her voice unnerved Zia. Nina had always been so confident and sure. She took everything in her graceful, unfaltering stride. If she was worried, what hope was there?

"Do not worry, child," Nina murmured, sensing her disquiet. "I have faith in our leaders' judgement. We must always remember that Aslan watches over us. He will love and protect us - just as he always has and always will. Now, aren't you going to introduce me to your new companion?"

Davlon had been lingering under the cover of the trees. He walked humbly over when Nina beckoned him. Zia felt obliged to inform the Empress that it was because of him they had managed to make it to Cair Paravel and back in a day. She was intrigued to learn of Zia's first experience of riding a horse and insisted on getting acquainted with Seren. The horse was not shy of Nina and she wasted no time in snuffling around her in hope of finding some sort of tasty titbit. Nina laughed delightedly and pressed a kiss to Seren's velvety muzzle.

Zia stood beside Davlon and observed the scene with a faint smile on her lips. The Centaur placed his warm (and very large) hand on her shoulder.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked in a whisper.

She barely hesitated before nodding. The confirmation was a lie, but Davlon believed it. His large eyes were noble and gentle, and his smile sent a welcome flood of heat through her abdomen. The Centaur would have to leave soon – his duties lay with his people, particularly as war lurked on the horizon – and that knowledge made Zia sad.

"Will I ever see you again?" she asked him.

His eyes grew wide with surprise.

"I mean… well, you've been so kind to me and Bree, helping us get to Cair Paravel and back safely… I just thought…" she trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

To her relief, his face softened. "That, I cannot say. However, I know that I do not regret having the pleasure of meeting you today. It has been an eye-opening experience."

"How so?"

He chuckled. "Never in all my life have I come across a Dryad like you. I didn't even know that beings as peaceful as Dryads could be so…" He paused for a moment, trying to find a word that fit. He had it. "Passionate."

She smiled. "You think that of me?"

"After that scene with the King, how could I not?" Her smile faded and he became apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up again."

"Don't be," she answered, a little too quickly. "It's nothing. He's nothing." She hoped she sounded convincing enough. It was becoming increasingly difficult to force the lies past her lips. If Davlon saw past her poor façade (which would have been hardly surprising), he did not press the matter further.

"In answer to your question," he said lightly, "I do hope we will meet again soon - though hopefully not within a setting as macabre as a battlefield."

The thought of a reunion with Davlon brought Zia's smile back and it remained in place until Nina approached them. She held up her skirts as she curtsied to Davlon. The Centaur bowed in his unusual way, earning a twinkling smile from Nina.

"It has been a pleasure, honourable friend," she said.

"The pleasure is all mine, my Lady," he replied, taking her hand and kissing it.

"I pray that you have a safe journey. Come, Zia, to bed with you. It's getting late and you must be exhausted."

"May I say goodbye to Davlon?" she pleaded.

"All right but don't dawdle, please." Despite her firm commands, Nina's eyes were gentle as she turned away.

Dryad and Centaur exchanged grins, and Zia performed her own curtsy for him. Davlon returned it and kissed her hand, as he had with Nina.

"Farewell, friend," Zia said softly.

"Until we meet again, Daughter of Aslan."

* * *

Little more than a week later, word that the enemy was approaching reached the Grove.

As soon as Nina announced the news, everyone leapt up to make the necessary preparations. Their high spirits surprised Zia; in a very short amount of time they would all be staring death in the face, and yet there was a bright smile on almost every one of their faces.

_Perhaps they want to be joyous while they still can_, she thought to herself. Then she shuddered and hurriedly dispelled the thought. She would soon face the greatest test of bravery one could face – this was no time for cowardice.

Although no one at Cair Paravel had mentioned the time and place for the battle, the trees were efficient in carrying the message: good and evil would come into vicious contact directly north of Dancing Lawn and across the Great River early the next morning. Zia briefly pitied the unfortunate creatures who had been the ones to locate the enemy base. She would prefer never to come within twenty miles of those repugnant beasts ever again.

That was the cowardly side of her talking. She would have to find a way to silence that frightened little voice in the back of her mind. She hadn't been subjected to almost five years of warrior training to take the gutless way out and remain at the Grove out of harm's way. She was a fearless Knight of the Forest and she would carry out her duties for Nina, for Aslan and for Narnia until her heart beat its last beat and her lungs drew their last breath, as the oath she had sworn demanded.

No one slept well that night. Excitement and anticipation electrified the air so that it almost hummed. The darker shadows of doubt and fear were outstripped but refused to fade. No words acknowledged them but every heart sensed the enormity of what was to come.

Early the next morning, Nina gathered her people around her. She looked down into their dependable, determined faces and felt a choking rush of pride and love.

"The time has arrived, sisters. Today we shall come face to face with the nightmare that has tormented our beloved home these past weeks. I have faith in each and every one of you. I know that you will not run, you will not cower, and you will not give up. I know that each and every one of you will fight to protect our family, our friends and our home. You shall not falter, you shall not fail. Today you will prove that your love for Aslan and for Narnia is a steadfastly flame that will never flicker or die. Come, my sisters, to arms!"

"To arms!" Zia cheered, her voice all but lost amongst various other shouts.

Before she could find her way to Nina's side, something bumped against Zia's leg. Breejit gazed up at her, his deep brown eyes full of a mixture of pride and anxiety.

"Promise me you'll be careful," he murmured as she knelt in front of him.

She smiled and fondled his ears. "Ever the worrier, Bree," she said gently. His eyes were shining in a way that suggested tears should be rolling down his face. She would be brave for his sake. "Take care of the twins. I'll be back before you know it."

The words had barely left her mouth before her arms were full of a bundle of russet fur. His tongue was rough as it affectionately slathered her face. Tears threatened to spill; Zia battled for all she was worth to hold them back.

"I love you, Zia."

"Love you too, Bree. See you soon."

* * *

The electric atmosphere surrounding the Dryads grew ever more intense as they marched. Those who had previously been plagued with trepidation now began to settle into their warrior state of mind. They looked fragile on the outside and their behaviour did nothing to contradict appearances but they were as good in battle as any knight. In fact they were even more fearless. They trusted their Empress and retained the solid belief that Aslan would always watch over them. A Dryad army was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

Distant shouts and the clanking of metal announced the battlefield before it came into sight. Along the way, Nina's clan had been joined by various other Nymph aggregations. Some were male, some female, some more plant-like than others, but all were largely unidentifiable under their armour. The clan leaders all joined Nina at the head of the procession. Any creature that witnessed the ten thousand forest Spirits all marching together would later insist that no more splendid a sight could ever be observed.

Finally, they broke through the cover of the trees and were greeted by a vast, open plain. They had emerged a little to the right of the Narnian army and Nina turned to lead them around the back of the ranks of Centaurs and Fauns, all stood rigid and awaiting command.

A large hill rose behind the cavalry; this is where the archers were positioned. Queen Susan stood amongst them, clearly in charge. She greeted Nina and the other Dryad Emperors and Empresses with a sweeping curtsy, which they each returned. There was not enough room for all of them atop the hill so Susan sent a sizeable portion of the army down to stand behind the left and right flanks. The buzz in the air was now a tangible charge that zipped back and forth like lightning. Zia had to force her feet to keep still and not hop about childishly.

The enemy was little more than a dark line across the far side of the plain. Each soldier was indistinguishable from the next. This did nothing to prevent Zia's stomach from squirming. Those monsters had demolished Dancing Lawn and their devastation had no doubt spread like poison through other areas of Narnia.

_Well,_ Zia thought with a grim smile. _That ends today._

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the thrumming air. It was deep, rich, ancient and powerful although it spoke in little more than a whisper. Zia frowned and looked to the soldiers on either side of her. Neither showed any sign of having heard the voice; they merely stood silent and still with their bows at the ready.

_Keep your eyes open, Daughter. They know._

If it hadn't been for the dead hush that had descended over the two armies, Zia would have demanded to know what the voice meant. Instead, she questioned it silently, inside her head.

_What? What do they know?_

The ghostly voice didn't reply. Zia's heart trembled.

The scrape of metal on metal carried through the silence like a thunder clap. With a shake of her head, Zia turned her attention to the front of the Narnian army. King Peter had drawn his sword and was holding it above his head. He looked truly magnificent in his gleaming armour, sat astride a stunning white unicorn. The entire battlefield seemed to hold its breath as he lowered his arm so that the deadly blade pointed straight towards the foe. Zia's hand closed around her bow.

"For Narnia!"

The battle cry washed over them like a shockwave. There was a second's pause, then Peter's unicorn plunged forward.


	10. Genocide

**Genocide**

Time passed in a blur. Down below, at the base of the hill and across the plain, all hell was breaking loose. The enemy was tough. They came at the Narnians with hoarse battle cries and huge brutal weapons. The air filled with agonised cries as soldiers were struck down, the squeals of horses as their riders slipped from the saddle and the deafening clang of sword on armour. Zia wanted so badly to be down there with the Dryads who flanked the Narnian army. She felt practically useless being so far away. Nina had probably put her with Susan to keep her as safe as possible - she was the youngest Dryad soldier on the battlefield - but her own security was at the bottom of her list of priorities.

She glanced sideways. Beside her, Queen Susan's eyes were fixed on the charging infantry on the far side of the field. She did not appear horrified or disgusted by their mutant bodies; she merely waited for the right time to strike. Her slender eyebrows met over her eyes, which burned with something fierce. The Gentle Queen did not look so gentle now.

Swallowing, Zia turned her gaze downward. She couldn't see the other Dryads; their position was obscured by the brow of the hill. However, she _could_ see the creatures that had met the enemy halfway. Centaurs wielded their weapons with deadly accuracy, occasionally rearing up on to their hind legs and striking out with their hooves. Fauns seemed to be less cautious, less controlled - they threw themselves at whatever foe happened to be the closest and slashed at it until it thudded to the ground, twitching as it died. Leopards and Cheetahs scratched and pounced with beautiful, fluid movements. Gryphons circled overhead as though awaiting some kind of order - presumably from the Kings.

Nina was right: Battles were hideous affairs. In no time at all the green grass was dyed red and dead or dying bodies littered the field, obstructing the movement of both armies. Zia couldn't tell whether the majority of the lifeless forms belonged to their side or the enemy's. She preferred not to find out.

"Archers, take your aim!"

The cry snapped Zia out of examining the carnage. Moving as one, the archers lifted their bows, pointing the arrows towards the sky. The tension in the string hummed against Zia's fingers and the tip of her arrow quivered slightly. What had Sayalla said on her first day of training? It seemed like three lifetimes ago.

_The first rule of archery - never lose focus on your target. You lose focus, you miss._

"Fire!"

The missiles rained down. A few of them embedded uselessly in the ground but most pierced some part of an enemy soldier. Some fell down dead, others screamed and grabbed for the shaft where it protruded from a shoulder or thigh. Zia had lost sight of her arrow but she hoped it had done some considerable damage.

There was barely a pause before Susan barked, "Again!"

So it went on - round after round of deadly rain with no time to breathe. Zia's arms ached and she was panting. Surely they must have accidentally hit one of their own soldiers but the frenzy made it impossible to tell. There was no time to check.

An unheard command suddenly sent the wheeling gryphons into action. They swooped low, screeching like demented bats. Each held a sizeable rock in its talons. The rocks dropped from the sky onto the enemy ranks with thundering crashes. The aerial attack seemed to take the monsters by surprise. Those armed with bows tried to bring the mighty creatures down with arrows, but were sprung upon by the Narnians as soon as they lost concentration. Clearly the brutes had underestimated them. Now they were paying the price of their ignorance.

Susan held up her hand and the archers ceased fire. Some allowed their weary shoulders to sag, despite being repeatedly told that 'archers should always appear respectful and proud'. In her state of fatigue, Zia aimlessly wondered whether any of Sayalla's other pupils had debated violence whilst having commands flung at them. Sayalla was bossy by anyone's standards.

Behind Zia, someone cried, "Look! The enemy is retreating!"

Sure enough, the Narnians seemed to be pushing across the field with considerable speed now. A flash of white alerted Zia to the High King's position. He was in the front line, driving the tired Narnians forward with renewed vigour. The Dryads in their midst kept up an unbreakable rhythm, shooting arrow after arrow at the ghastly creatures' hearts.

The enemy exceeded the archers' range now, even from their vantage point. Zia watched in satisfaction as the cowards ran from the pursuing Narnians. Strangely, a group of them seemed to have broken off from the rest and, instead of retreating directly north (the direction from which they came), were moving purposefully into the forest to the east, the direction from which the Dryads had come. The direction of…

_Keep your eyes open, Daughter. They know._

Her gasp was so loud and sudden that Susan threw her a sharp look. Zia staggered, feeling as though all the strength had suddenly been sucked out of her. The Queen promptly stepped over and held her elbow to keep her from losing her balance. Zia fought the dizziness, trying to wrap her thoughts around the situation. They knew about the Dryads' one weakness and were heading towards the Grove.

Several of the Dryads' hands flew to their open mouths. Their beautiful faces were masks of upmost shock, but not one of them moved.

"Zia, what is it?" Susan demanded next to her ear.

Zia shook her head to clear the ringing and gasped out, "They know. They know about us. They're heading towards the Grove. We h-have to stop them…"

The light of realisation sparked in Susan's eyes. "Can you stand on your own?"

At Zia's nod, Susan let go of her elbow and strode away - presumably to send a messenger to warn Peter of the Dryads' vulnerable position. That would take too long. By the time Peter had assessed the danger and sent his army after them it would be too late. Something had to be done _now._

Zia didn't even pause to think her plan through. Aslan, she didn't even _have_ a plan. Her brain handed her body over to her instincts and she took off down the hill. The slope was steep but she managed to keep her balance, only stumbling slightly when the ground suddenly levelled out. There was quite a gap between the archers' stand and the rest of the Narnians now. Zia didn't pause to take it in; her feet carried her swiftly over the blood-stained battlefield. The mangled bodies and rivers of blood didn't even register in her panicked mind. The smell - the metallic, salty, sickening smell - reached her nose and took the direct path to her stomach. She fought the bile rising in her throat and spurred her feet on.

She caught sight of Davlon at the back of the group. _Oh, thank Aslan!_Drawing a deep breath, she bellowed his name with all her might. The single word scraped up her throat like a knife. She coughed painfully and prayed that the Centaur had heard her cry. Miraculously, he turned around.

Davlon trotted over to her. "What are you doing, Daughter of Aslan?" he asked as she bent over, bracing her hands on her knees. "Shouldn't you be with Queen Susan and the other archers?"

Zia opened her mouth but all that came out were choked retches. The stench of blood and sweat was overpowering. Joyful cheers from the Narnians could be heard over the erratic pounding in her ears but she knew it was far from over.

"They're… h-headed for the… the Gr-Grove…" she wheezed. Running didn't usually affect her so much, but the frenzied hysteria and crushing reality of how many had lost their lives (monsters or not) was almost too much for her fragile disposition to cope with.

Understanding dawned in Davlon's dark eyes. A second later his hand had grasped her forearm and she was being swung onto his back.

Riding Davlon was distinctly contrastive to riding Seren. His lean, muscular torso acted as a shield, protecting her from the winds that would have forced her to screw up her eyes. His stride was consciously even and smooth. The ride would have been comfortable had it not been for the rolling in her stomach and the agitation eating away at her patience. Her bow was still in her fist, her fingers gripping it so tightly they had grown numb. There was no need to hold on even at the speed they were travelling, so she focused her mind on gently unbending each of her fingers and flexing the stiffness out of them.

A gruff yell caught her attention and her head instantly jerked upwards; they were getting close now. It seemed as though the grotesque enemy force was not far ahead. Zia squinted into the blurred trees, trying to catch a glimpse of them. Something metallic glinted in the dappled sunlight; her gut twisted and flip-flopped.

"Hurry, Davlon," she whispered.

Through a break in the vegetation, they caught sight of a huge beast. It was lumbering along behind the others, and no wonder. It carried an enormous axe over its shoulder – an axe that could take down a tree with one hefty blow.

Without thinking about what she was doing, Zia reached for her quiver. She trained it on the great furry back, leaning sideways to see around Davlon's torso. The arrow shot from her bow thudded into the beast's shoulder blade. A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. Zia pressed her hands over her ears as Davlon leaped over the fallen body. Zia chanced a glance behind her and immediately wished she hadn't.

By the time they reached the Great River, the shouts were louder and clearer. Thankfully the crossing was shallow; Davlon's stride barely altered as he pushed through the swirling water.

Davlon bunched like a spring and soared over a log and then they were there. The Centaur galloped straight past the shocked creatures, turned and skidded to a halt just a few feet from the edge of the Grove. Zia leaped from his back and grabbed an arrow, barely aiming before letting it fly. It hit the nearest creature – what looked to be a strange cross between an ape and a warthog – straight in the chest. It didn't even have time to scream before its life was snuffed out like a candle.

The rest of them stopped in surprise, staring down at their fallen comrade. Zia already had another arrow ready for whichever beast decided to step forward first. It didn't look like that would happen any time soon – they were all now looking around at each other in complete confusion. Zia bit her lip to keep back a hysterical giggle, barely noticing the look Davlon shot her.

Several shuffles and grunts disturbed the silence as one of them shoved his way through to stand at the front of the crowd. This one must have been the largest of the lot; seven feet tall at least and with tremendous rolls of muscle clearly visible beneath its thick hide. Devilish horns protruded from its head, curving round and ending in wickedly sharp points. Zia recognised this one as a Minotaur; they had been one of the first races to side with the White Witch. It was dressed in a leather tunic, which looked very out of place wrapped around its broad chest, and a double-bladed axe was strapped across its back. The weapon was almost as big as Zia. The curved twin blades were almost as wide as her arm was long. The weapon was not easy to ignore even though Zia tried her very best to do so.

The Minotaur's beady black eyes travelled down the length of Zia's body and back up again. It seemed to be assessing whether she was a true threat. Zia tried to appear as menacing as possible to show it she wasn't afraid. The beast's terrible mouth curved up in a crude smile and its vast chest reverberated with booming laughter.

As if that were the cue, the rest of the group followed the Minotaur's lead. Zia found herself on the receiving end of mocking jeers and cruel, snide cackles. Some even pointed their claws, hooves, wings (or whatever sort of limb they happened to possess) at her. She felt her cheeks flush as she glared at them all. They may be terrifying but that didn't mean they could scoff at her.

"What do we have here?" the Minotaur (who Zia had now decided must be some kind of authority figure) demanded, still smirking down at her. "Why, I do believe that King Peter has sent a little girl to defend his precious Dryads."

Zia puffed up with anger at this. "I'm here under no one's orders," she said vehemently.

The Minotaur seemed to find this hilarious. The ground vibrated with his deep, gravelly laughter and Zia had to fight to keep her stance steady and unwavering.

"My my, what a pretty little thing you are," he leered.

He took several steps towards her with his huge heavy feet, causing Davlon to clench his fists and paw at the grass in warning. The great beast stopped and reached out one large, leathery hand to grab Zia's chin. Zia shook her head but couldn't free herself from the vicelike grip of his meaty fingers. Up close he stank of putrid breath and raw meat. Her stomach heaved in disgust.

"Get your filthy hands off me," she growled again whilst trying unsuccessfully to escape his grasp.

"Fiery, too." He smirked at the gathering behind him. "It will almost be a shame to kill her."

"Let her go!" Davlon demanded. His voice struck almost as much fear into Zia than the stinking beast that held her.

The Minotaur paused to give Davlon a once over and his ugly face broke out into an even wider grin, exposing yellow, cracked teeth. The stench that washed over Zia made her head spin.

"I don't see any of your pathetic Narnian army rushing to aid you, Centaur," he spat. "Or are you contemptuous enough to think that you could overpower my men alone?"

"I seem to recall that it was _your_ army who ran from the Narnians," Davlon returned savagely.

"Ah, but that was all part of the plan, you see."

Zia's face was finally released. She rubbed her jaw, glaring up at the Minotaur. "What _plan_?" she demanded.

The Minotaur spread his shaggy arms. His black eyes were like shiny beetles and they glinted with malice. "It really isn't that hard to figure out. My army feigned retreat to distract your little High King. Whilst he chased them into the forest, I brought these guys here to get rid of your charming nature beauties. They're pretty handy with their bows, I'll give you that. Couldn't have them getting in the way of us. We're going to wipe every last one of your inferior soldiers. Count on that."

Zia dug her fingernails into her palms. The topic of wiping out so many lives was as easy to discuss as the weather. Although it frightened her to admit it, this Minotaur could snap her in half without any effort. Davlon could defend himself better than she could, but he wouldn't last very long against half an army.

Despite herself, Zia had to ask, "Why? Why would you _do_ something like that?"

Raucous guffaws abused her ears as the Minotaur gazed around at his cronies, sharing a joke at Zia's expense. "The answer to that question is simple, my pretty. It's fun."

Realisation pushed its way into her clouded thoughts; she and Davlon were a hopeless cause. Their death was being prolonged for entertainment. Their only hope was that they'd stalled the attack long enough for Peter to realise his mistake and come running to protect the Dryads.

Even when Zia squeezed her eyes shut, that horrible, hairy face loomed at her. She sensed the scrutiny of his piggy eyes, silently mocking of her anguish. Desperately trying to distract herself, Zia pictured Nina. She focused all her mental strength on reconstructing every detail of her sister's face. The final blow would come soon, so she pictured safety, warmth and love to mask the inescapable pain.

Suddenly, the pounding of a thousand feet shattered the tense air. The group of monsters all turned in confusion and immediately met their end. Peter blazed through on his white unicorn, followed by an animated crowd of Narnian soldiers. They cut down the bewildered beasts before they could work out what was happening. The Minotaur roared in rage.

"Zia, the Grove!"

Davlon's shout snapped her to attention. He galloped after the Minotaur as it lumbered away, with Zia in hot pursuit. As soon as the Minotaur crossed the Grove's boundaries, the whole of Nina's clan was in even greater peril. Zia's stomach undulated so violently that she had to stop. Bent double, she clamped her teeth together against the vomit surging up her throat. The ground vibrated as several Fauns bounded past, howling with exuberance.

Just as Zia straightened, a wicked crunch echoed through the forest.

"No!" she screamed, lurching into the familiar cluster of trees. She was just in time to see a surge of Fauns dive at the Minotaur, who collapsed under their combined wrath. Zia only had eyes for the axe; its blade was embedded in the trunk of the tree growing at the very heart of the Grove. The majestic tree creaked, shivered and groaned as it suffered the agony of almost complete dimidiation.

_No. Please Aslan, no…_

Her head whipped up in a dizzying hurricane. She stumbled and was encased by strong arms as darkness claimed her.


	11. The Ones We Lose

**The Ones We Lose**

An increasingly familiar rocking motion gently coaxed Zia back into consciousness. Her thoughts were so fuzzy and jumbled that she could not distinguish one from another. She held perfectly still for a few moments whilst her brain caught up and assessed her situation. She was leaning back against something solid and cold. There was almost complete silence apart from the breathing of whatever she was leaning against and the steed beneath her. Her nostrils filled with the tangy scent of metal and the unmistakeable salty smell that she immediately placed as sweat. Her mouth felt dry and her throat was sore. She remembered a lot of shouting before she'd lost consciousness.

As she started to crack her eyes open, a little voice in the back of her head advised her against doing so, insisting that she would not like what she saw. She was half-tempted to heed the voice's warning but she needed to be aware of where she was and who was behind her.

The first thing that greeted her eyes was a pure white mane. Her fingers crept forward almost of their own accord to stroke the silky strands and hold them in front of her face. She had never seen snow, only heard of it, but this was the colour she imagined it to be. Something hovered at the edge of her mind, impatiently waiting to be acknowledged. The colour that filled her vision was familiar but she couldn't recall where she'd seen it before.

A voice next to her ear made her start. "It's alright, you're safe."

"Peter? I – I mean… Your Majesty?" As her brain began to sluggishly drag itself out of the darkness, a few pieces fell into place. The hair between her fingers belonged to Peter's unicorn and the reason he felt so cold behind her was because he was still wearing his armour.

"Don't try to talk," murmured the High King. "I'm taking you back to Cair Paravel. We'll look after you there."

It suddenly occurred to her that it was Peter's arms she had fallen into before everything had switched off. "Thank you," she whispered.

Peter said nothing.

She turned her head, wincing at the stab of pain in her stiff neck, to look to her left. There were only trees, clustered in a mass of green, on that side. Upon examining the scenery to the other side of her she found it to be much the same but for the concerned brown eyes of a Centaur.

"Davlon?" she croaked.

"Zia," Davlon sighed, relief plain in his deep voice. "How do you feel?"

"I… I'm not really sure," she said. Her own voice was muffled in her ears; both she and Davlon sounded like they were under water. "Where am I, Davlon? What happened?" Davlon's shoulders shifted as he walked and his eyes wouldn't meet hers. "Davlon?"

The Centaur chose his words carefully. "King Peter came to defend the Grove from the enemy. Do you remember?"

Zia searched through the murky pool that was her memories and managed to bring an image of the Minotaur to the surface. She gasped and shuddered, shaking her head to make it go away.

"I remember the Minotaur," she told him slowly, pausing as details of the events came back piece by piece. "I remember the battle and how we chased them into the forest. They were going to hurt my people. They…"

_Crunch!_

The sound, or a memory of the sound, of metal biting deep into wood jerked her upright and she gasped wildly as a tide of hysteria flooded through her.

"Nina! He-he… Oh!"

She sagged back against Peter's chest and struggled to think through the torturous agony that was squeezing her heart with a vice-like grip. It couldn't be true. She'd imagined the whole thing. It was just a dream…

Davlon's hand came up to rest on her knee. His brown eyes were full of an inexpressible sadness and sympathy.

"Zia, the axe almost cut Nina's tree in half," he murmured, tears welling in his eyes. "We went back to the battlefield to find her but the survivors said she just vanished. I'm so sorry."

Zia felt numb. Her brain refused to believe that Davlon's words were true. They couldn't be. He was lying or else mistaken. Nina would be waiting for her at the Grove with her usual loving smile firmly in place with Dahlia and Delilah in her arms. Breejit would be there. They would cheer and celebrate their success in driving away the enemy and they would never have to speak of any of this again.

It sounded so convincing that Zia almost believed it. She cried silently for the rest of the journey to Cair Paravel. She was vaguely aware of reaching the gates to the castle and of being lifted down from Peter's unicorn. Someone carried her inside, through various corridors and up several flights of stairs before setting her down on something soft that gave slightly beneath her. Something else warm and heavy was pulled over her, covering everything up to her chin. A thick, syrupy liquid was carefully poured down her throat. She swallowed it without thinking; it burned slightly as it went down. She felt a slight shift as someone settled on the edge of whatever she was lying on, but didn't open her eyes.

She drifted in and out of consciousness with no indication of whether it was day or night. Whenever she awoke, there was always someone waiting to tip more of the sticky liquid into her mouth. Occasionally she heard voices but they always sounded too far away and she didn't have the energy to focus on them.

One day - she guessed it must be either the third or fourth since she'd been brought to the Cair - her brain broke through the heavy fog. She opened her eyes and stared around the room. The ceiling, walls and floor were all white, creating a sensation of unease in her stomach that she couldn't explain. Hers wasn't the only bed in the large, rectangular room. Both of the longer walls were lined with them and all were donned with the same white sheets and pillow cases. Most were occupied from what she could see. An unpleasant smell lingered in the air, burning her nose as she breathed it in.

Footsteps echoed somewhere in an adjoining room and then a door opened. A girl came through it, holding a clear bottle in her right hand and balancing a tray on her left. The girl's skin was pale, but not in a sickly way. It was more soft and snowy - in both colour and texture. She had a pleasant, heart-shaped face and masses of dark curls that flowed down her back. There were dark circles under her hazel-brown eyes, as though she hadn't slept well for years. She cautiously tip-toed her way over to where Zia lay, keeping her eyes focussed on the precarious tray. Setting it on a small table, the girl turned to smile kindly down at Zia.

"Good morning, how are you feeling?" she asked. Zia recognised her voice from the whispering she had heard in between lulls of sleep. She shrugged in answer to the girl's question. She didn't quite feel up to speaking yet. The girl seemed to understand. She uncapped the vial and brought it to Zia's lips, pushing her hair away from her forehead as she drank.

"I'm Alexandra, Cair Paravel's Court Physician," the girl said as she dipped a flannel into the small basin that she'd carried in on the tray. The cool water was heaven on Zia's hot face as she was still being slightly suffocated by the blankets that were tucked around her.

Alexandra gently dabbed Zia's neck and shoulders with the flannel. She didn't seem the type to enjoy meaningless chatter, which was a relief to Zia. She didn't want to even pretend to listen to anyone talking at her. After she had finished sponging her down, Alexandra took the basin away and came back to plump Zia's pillows. Zia watched her as she meandered around the room, occasionally stopping at a bedside and checking upon its occupant.

When she'd done all she could, Alexandra came back to Zia, her eyes downcast. "I'm sorry for your loss. I know what it's like to lose someone close to you. If you ever want to talk, I'll be around. Just try and get as much rest as you can for now." She exited the room with a sad smile, closing the door softly behind her.

Zia thought she slept some more after that. When she opened her eyes again, the room was dim. The only light came from a candle on the bedside table and the silvery moon that was visible through the large window that took up most of the far end of the room. There was someone sitting in an armchair by the side of her bed. At first she thought it to be the physician from earlier, but the person in the armchair was the last person she expected to see.

Edmund's dark hair was rumpled, his eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open. His chest rose and fell evenly - he was fast asleep. Zia could do nothing but gape at him for several minutes. How long had he been there? Why was he even there in the first place?

Whilst she was staring, Edmund's eyes fluttered open. He immediately glanced over at her and surprise crossed his face when he saw she was awake.

"Good evening," he murmured. "How are you feeling?"

Zia repeated the shrug she'd executed when Alexandra had asked her the same question. She squinted at him in the dim light, trying to make out his features though they were half hidden by shadows.

"Alex warned me you weren't in the mood for talking," he informed her conversationally. "But I thought you'd be glad of some company. It must seem such a long time since you've spoken to another living thing."

He proceeded to tell her about all sorts of trivial things that were going on in the Cair. He described the day's training session in great detail and definitely looked smug when he told her how he'd beaten his older brother in a friendly sparring match. Zia wasn't especially interested in what he had to say, but found herself listening carefully to the sound of his voice and noticing all the slight changes in pitch and tempo. She was concentrating so hard that she missed his next question.

"I'm sorry," he said after a few seconds of silence. "Would you like me to leave?"

Zia shook her head. The very fact that he was there, sitting by her bed and keeping watch over her, was a shock but a pleasant one. His smile was one of relief as he glanced down at the book cradled on his lap, still open from when he'd fallen asleep reading.

"Shall I read to you?"

Zia blinked, again taken by surprise. She gave a dubious nod, doubtfully eyeing the thick volume. She'd never come across any books in her life and, even if she had, she probably wouldn't have had much concern for them, but if it meant Edmund would stay and she could listen to his voice some more, she was willing to trust the bundle of parchment and ink in his hands.

As he flicked back to the first page and began to read, Zia settled back against the pillows and allowed herself to be carried along by the story. Before long she began to completely disregard the words and returned to committing every little rise and fall of Edmund's voice to memory. Like a lullaby, it led her down through the soft, heavy layers of sleep.

Just as she was about to give way to unconsciousness, the sound of a door opening echoed in the air. "Come away Edmund, let her sleep," a voice said quietly. It sounded like Alexandra. Zia kept her eyes closed - she didn't want either of them to know she was listening.

Edmund didn't move from Zia's side. His hand moved to gently clutch hers. She tried her very best not to stiffen in shock. Alexandra sighed and shook her head, walking over and placing her hand reassuringly on Edmund's shoulder. "Ed, I know you care about her but you need to stop worrying."

"What if something happens to her?" he asked.

"Honestly Ed, I'm starting to think you doubt my talents. I'll look after her, you know I will." She sighed, slightly squeezing his shoulder. "You know I hate to see you sad, especially after all of the business from the Summer Solstice."

"I know, I remember." He mimicked her sigh. "Why did she leave? I looked for her Alex, I looked everywhere!"

"I know, I looked with you, remember?" Alexandra knelt beside him and gazed at him sadly. "I hope she's worth it, Ed."

"I think - no, I know she is."

A half-smile appeared on Alexandra's mouth. "Tough as old boots, she is. I can see why you like her," she said slyly. "And very pretty too…"

"Shut up, Alex."

"Hey, I'm entitled to tease you a bit. You've done it to me plenty of times." Alexandra spoke in a playful tone, pointing a finger at Edmund. With a smile, she stood and tapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, bed. You need some sleep."

"You need it more than me," Edmund weakly protested, reluctantly standing up as well.

"You know I don't sleep anyway, what with the dreams and everything. Now, shoo. I know what you're like in the morning, grumpy guts." She nudged him towards the door.

"Are they still bad?" he whispered. There was a note of panic in his voice.

"They're… No, doesn't matter now. Bed!" She tried to push him to the door again. "Besides, you'll never hear the end of it from Peter if you fall asleep through another meeting."

"You'll tell me if anything happens during the night, won't you?"

"Ed!"

"Alright, alright!" With one last look at Zia, he leaned over and lightly brushed his lips across her forehead.

* * *

The next morning, when Zia opened her eyes, the sun was high in the sky outside the window and the air inside the room was stifling. With some effort, she shoved the blankets off and struggled into a sitting position. Her limbs were stiff from lack of movement. Swinging her legs round, she pushed herself up off the bed. The stone floor was blissfully cool under her bare feet.

A glorious view of the glistening blue sea spread out before her as she leaned on the window ledge. The beach below looked familiar. With a jolt, she realised that it was the same beach where she'd first laid eyes on Edmund. She wondered if he'd chosen this room for her on purpose. No, that was ridiculous. It must be just a coincidence. There couldn't be _that_ many hospital wings in Cair Paravel.

The sound of the door creaking open brought her down from her thought clouds. It was Lucy and she looked stunned to see Zia free from the restraints of her linen prison.

"Oh Zia, you're up." She gingerly held a goblet of something steaming between her hands, which she quickly put down on the table beside the bed that Zia had occupied. "Are you feeling better, then?"

"A little." Zia's voice was hoarse from not having spoken for such a long time. She cleared her throat and tried again. "It's good to see you."

"You too," the youngest Queen replied. She kept her voice down so as not to disturb the rest of Alexandra's patients, all resting in their various beds. "Well, it's good to see you awake. I sat by your bed for a while, just to make sure you were all right. Ed wouldn't hear of you being left alone for a single minute. He made us all take turns watching you."

"Did he?" She tried to sound nonchalant but couldn't quite keep the pleasure from being apparent in her tone. If Lucy noticed this, she was tactful enough not to comment. At her beckoning, Zia padded over to perch on the edge of the bed. Lucy settled behind her and produced a comb from the sleeve of her dress.

"Do you feel well enough to come for a walk in the gardens?" Lucy asked as she worked the comb through the tangled mess that was Zia's hair.

"There's nothing really wrong with me," Zia said quietly.

"I know, but it must be awful to…" Lucy hurriedly closed her mouth. Zia smiled weakly so she wouldn't feel too guilty.

The ensuing silence was tense and awkward. Both of them were relieved when someone else came through the door. This time it was Alexandra. She had brought another vial for Zia to drink from. After she had drained the last drops, Zia enquired as to what the liquid was.

"It's a kind of potion," Alexandra replied. "I've been looking through some books I found in the library about your kind and almost all of them say that Dryads – and Nymphs in general – become irritable when they are kept away from their home for too long. I think a few of them said something about you eventually going insane. I thought I'd better make this for you to drink. We don't want a crazy Dryad running around the place, do we?" She was smiled teasingly. "I'm glad it works, anyway. Ed's already worried sick about you."

Remembering the drowsy state her mind and body had been in, Zia scowled at the Court Physician. "Were you _drugging_ me?"

Alexandra blinked and then firmly set her jaw. "It was in your best interests, I'll have you know. I didn't just do it to keep you in place. You can rest assured that I'll always do everything in my power to make my patients feel better."

Thoroughly snubbed and feeling ashamed, Zia mutely hung her head. She might want to pretend she hadn't heard that conversation last night, but she had, and there was more to Alexandra than a Court Physician.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into said Court Physician's hazel-brown eyes. They were soft, understanding. "I'm sorry."

Zia nodded and managed a small smile.

With Alexandra's permission for her to leave the hospital, Zia was made to take her first (much-needed) bath. The temperature of the water was far too hot at first but she was soon relaxing into it as Lucy knelt on the tiled floor beside the tub and washed her hair for her. The young Queen helped her out of the tub and wrapped her snugly in a soft towel. Then Lucy started work on pinning Zia's hair up in a delicate twist whilst Alexandra paid a visit to the castle seamstress to pick up the dress Lucy had requested be made for the Dryad. Zia eyed the gown warily when it was brought to her but didn't protest. She stepped into it, wobbling slightly even as Lucy held her hand. The material was smooth and flowed over her slender frame like water. The colour was as black as a raven's feather, a black that made Zia's tanned skin appear almost pale and caused her eyes to glow like emeralds.

The girls stepped back to admire their handiwork though neither took pleasure in the Dryad's fresh appearance. Although she did look out of place and slightly uncomfortable, Zia appeared much healthier and happier now that she was clean and standing on her own two feet.

"Where are you taking me?" Zia asked suspiciously as they led her out of the room, each holding one of her elbows.

Alex shot Lucy a look that clearly said "You tell her."

"Um…" Lucy began uncertainly. "We thought it would be proper if, well, you got chance to say a proper goodbye to – to Nina…"

At the mention of her deceased sister's name, Zia's heart suddenly remembered how to feel pain. She clenched her teeth against a whimper.

Alexandra rubbed the back of Zia's hand soothingly. "It was mostly Ed's idea, actually. He's organised a proper send off for her, if you would like to attend."

With a quiet sniff, Zia nodded. Nina deserved nothing less. She would not taint Nina's memory by hiding indoors for the rest of her life. She had not been trained to run and hide from things that scared her. "Will her tree be burned?" she whispered. "That's the traditional way to make sure that we rest in peace."

"I'll let Peter know that's what you want," Lucy assured her.

The funeral procession from the Cair was a small one, made up of only Zia, the four monarchs, Alexandra, Tumnus the Faun and Davlon (he had stayed at the castle to keep an eye on Zia and wouldn't leave until she was well enough to return home). The Kings and Queens rode on horseback, with Zia seated in front of Peter on a beautiful black stallion. Tumnus walked beside Lucy's chestnut mare, Alexandra shared Edmund's horse and Davlon padded slowly along at the rear. Zia kept her gaze focussed on the stallion's mane, fearing the emotion that would be brought up if she looked around. Her memories of Nina spanned across a period of almost sixty years. There was barely a place in the whole of Western Wood that they hadn't been to together.

When they reached the Grove, a loud gasp from Lucy made Zia look up. Her heart swelled against her ribs. The whole of Nina's clan had gathered to meet the melancholy party. Their heads were bowed and their glorious faces were mournful. Zia slid off Peter's horse and went to them. They offered her quiet words of sympathy, although the loss that they all felt hung tangibly in the air like storm clouds. She searched for Breejit and found him with the twins. Even the girls' cheerful, chubby faces were solemn. Carefully, so as not to get dirt on her dress, Zia sank to her knees and pulled her best friend into her arms.

The tears flowed freely now, dripping down Zia's face and soaking into Breejit's fur. She held him tight, allowing all her hopelessness and desperation to envelope them both. When her eyes eventually began to dry, she scrubbed at them with her fists, stood up and nodded to Peter. When they reached Nina's tree, Zia almost choked on a sob. The axe had been disposed of but the evidence of its destruction could not be undone. Davlon was right, the trunk had been severed almost completely in half – it seemed to be holding itself together by sheer will alone.

Standing in silent anguish, Zia only half-listened as members of her clan took it in turns to offer a few last words of blessing to their Empress. She watched Tumnus step up to the tree. He was trembling and wiping at his streaming eyes with a grubby handkerchief.

"Goodbye, my Lady," he murmured to the tree. "I will always remember that Solstice night four years ago – the night that I was finally granted the honour of dancing with you. It greatly saddens me to know that I will never get the chance to do so again, nor even watch you twirl gracefully around the Lawn like a beautiful star. I hope with all my heart that, when you reach Aslan's country, you will be able to dance once again." The Faun pressed his fingertips to his lips and tenderly stroked them once down the tree trunk. Then he stepped back into Lucy's waiting arms, trying as hard as he could to muffle his sobs.

When it was Zia's turn, she laid her hand against the small area of the trunk that was still whole, closed her eyes and pictured Nina's face. There was so much she wanted to say but words seemed to have gotten lost in the treacherous sea that was torturously drowning her from the inside.

In the end, all she could think to say was, "Farewell, sister."

When everyone had said their final goodbyes, one of the Dryads handed Peter a branch that had fallen from Nina's tree, which he lit and held out to Zia. She shook her head. There was no way she could be the one to destroy what remained of her beloved sister. She felt a warm hand close around her cold, frail one and squeeze gently. She didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Breejit regarded Zia's crumpled face from where he sat by her feet. He glanced from her to the dark-haired figure at her side and frowned.

Peter gripped the flaming torch in his fist. The smoke mixed with tears of regret caused his eyes to burn. "I am so sorry, my Lady," he breathed.

The gathering watched their High King's lips move but couldn't hear the words, no matter how much they furtively strained. They expected him to bring the ceremony to a close with a eulogy of his own, followed by a reassurance that Nina hadn't died in vain and had found peace with Aslan, but Peter's strength seemed to have left him, along with his voice.

He crouched by the roots of the tree, placed the burning stick against the mutilated trunk, straightened and stepped back. Lucy clung to his arm and cried as a single tear escaped from the corner of her brother's eye.

The fire took hold instantly but, instead of moving with the intention only to consume, it seemed as though it were treasuring each square inch of the wood as it worked its way upwards. Very soon the whole tree was alight. The bark and branches slowly became twisted and blackened beneath the caressing orange flames. A ghostly echo of Nina's tinkling laugh seemed to reach the crowd from the very heart of the tree before it was carried away by the wind.


	12. History Lesson

**History Lesson**

When you have nowhere to go and nothing to do, time passes in a dreamy blur. Within a couple of days of being discharged from the hospital wing Zia almost began to lose track of day and night. She was kept isolated from the bustle of the busy servants and the frenzy of citizens' various quarrels simply because none of it had anything to do with her. Occasionally, either Lucy, Alexandra or Susan found a short interval in their hectic schedule to provide her with some brief company, only to dash off again an hour later. Breejit remained constantly at her side - he had insisted on accompanying her back to Cair Paravel after Nina's funeral - but didn't offer much in the form of conversation. His large brown eyes seemed constantly narrowed in suspicion, as though he believed their hosts to be plotting some horrific evil scheme.

The Fox trotted sullenly at Zia's heels as she and Queen Susan meandered around the palace gardens. Lunch had just concluded and the afternoon sun was pleasant. Both Dryad and Human were dressed in light gowns, although Susan's deep purple with black lace attire was decidedly more impressive than Zia's simple, cream-coloured linen one.

"Why is it that your siblings departed so soon after their meal and you stayed to accompany me?" Zia asked. The formal speech felt strange in her mouth.

Susan gave her a sideways glance but didn't alter her easy stride. "Would you rather I left you to yourself?"

"Oh no, of course not," she replied hastily.

"But..?" Susan prompted.

"I always thought that you wouldn't want much to do with me."

The Gentle Queen laughed. "Do I intimidate you, Zia?"

In truth, Susan did exactly that. On top of her astounding beauty, the eldest queen carried about her an aura that commanded respect. Her lovely face retained a constant expression of pride, despite whatever else she might be feeling. When she was around her, Zia was struck with the sudden urge to run and hide.

Susan took the silence as an affirmative to her question. Her eyes grew very soft and she gently looped her arm through Zia's as they walked. "I know that my presence can be a little… _overwhelming_ for some people. Peter often jokes that I should have been named 'Susan the Fierce' or 'Susan the Terrifying'." She laughed again, quietly and sweetly. "But Aslan gave me my title for a reason and that reason is this: My family are my first priority. I seek to care for and protect them above all else. I am like their mother. Do you see?"

The Queen's voice was so tender that there was no way Zia could doubt her words. "Then where is your real mother?" she inquired.

By then they had reached the marble fountain in the centre of the gardens. The magnificent ornament towered high above their heads. A unicorn frozen with its front hooves poised as though to strike the air spouted a torrent of water from its mouth into the pool below. It was on the edge of this pool that Zia and Susan now seated themselves. Susan took Zia's hand between both of hers. The Dryad immediately noticed how soft and delicate the Queen's hands were and how pale her skin was, but she wouldn't be fooled. She had seen those very same hands handle a bow and arrow with a level of skill that could have matched that of Sayalla herself.

"You already know that my siblings and I – and Alex, for that matter – are not originally of this world."

Zia nodded. She had heard as much from Tumnus, many a time. "Aslan brought you here from another world to defeat the White Witch and restore peace to Narnia."

"That's right. What you probably won't know is that there was a war going on in England - our home. Many brave soldiers were sent to fight against the enemy, much like what happened here. My father was one of those soldiers. To this day I do not know what has become of him, but I keep telling myself and Lucy that he is both alive and well. Why, sometimes I fancy that the war is already over and he is back at home with my mother."

"Does your mother know you're here?"

"No. We were sent away from our house to protect us from the enemy. Alex lived in the house next to ours so she came with us because her father was away fighting too and she had no one to look after her. We were all taken to an old and beautiful house in the countryside. A wise professor lives there with his housekeeper, Mrs Macready. She is rather terrifying, even I must admit! There are also three servant-women named Ivy, Margaret and Betty. They were kinder to us. One day, we were playing hide-and-seek…" Susan caught Zia's confused expression and proceeded to explain the rules of the game. When she understood, the Queen continued her tale.

"Whilst Peter was counting and the rest of us were hiding, Lucy suddenly came running in, shouting about a magical land that she had found in a wardrobe. None of us believed her and I'm afraid Edmund was rather beastly to her about it. Then Edmund found the wardrobe and came here, and he met the White Witch. To cut a long and rather upsetting story short, the Witch lied to him and turned him against us but Aslan rescued him from her clutches. It was easy to see he had learned his lesson - the change in him was incredible. He was at Peter's side as our army marched to battle at Beruna and that is where Aslan finally defeated the White Witch. Then we were all brought here, to Cair Paravel, and Aslan himself bestowed upon us the crowns and titles that we bear to this day.

"I wondered – and I think the others did as well – why Alex wasn't made a queen alongside us. Whenever I put forward the inquiry, she told me that Aslan had his reasons and not to worry, she completely understood her place. Although we are her closest friends, Edmund especially, she keeps many secrets from us. We know hardly anything about her past - about her parents and such. Her father barely left the house. We know her mother was born in this world and that she is often plagued by nightmares, but, beyond that, Alex is a mystery."

Zia wasn't especially interested in the Court Physician at that moment. She was repeating an earlier part of Susan's story over and over in her mind, trying, without success, to understand. Her bewilderment wasn't missed by Susan.

"Is something troubling you?"

"You said… you said the White Witch turned Edmund against you," she said slowly, disbelief evident in her tone. "You mean he... _betrayed_ you?"

"Oh!" Susan exclaimed, instinctively wrapping her arm tightly around Zia's shoulders. "You mustn't think he would commit such an act on _purpose_! Gracious, no! Whenever Ed talks about the ordeal – and he rarely does, the subject is still painful for him - he always goes on about how miserable he was and how he regretted wandering away from us almost as soon as he left. Aslan has forgiven him and so have we. It is all in the past now."

Zia wanted to believe her, she really did. Edmund had not only been forgiven by Aslan, but had been made a king of Narnia! Surely that was enough reason for his sins to be forgotten? _Whether he meant to or not, he still sided with the Witch,_ the other side of her brain argued_. Who is to say he won't return to the side of evil if the chance ever arises?_

"Susan…" she began hesitantly. She was on first-name basis with all four of the royal siblings now, though she still retained the belief that Peter should at least be addressed as 'King'. "Do you remember the Summer Solstice four years ago?"

The Gentle Queen gave one of her musical chuckles and squeezed Zia's hand. "How could I not? Ed was so frantic after the dance; he flatly refused to come back to Cair Paravel until he had searched every corner of Narnia for you! We had to send Alex to calm him down and convince him to wait until morning before he began gallivanting around the country. You broke his heart, you know. He wouldn't be consoled. Even after we had all given up hope, he kept up the belief that he would find you or you would find him. I'd never seen him so serious about another person in his life. Why did you ask?"

"Well, you see, that's precisely the reason. He says he looked everywhere for me, and I heard Alex say the same thing, and now you. But when _I_ went looking for _him_, I found him with a Nymph, laughing as though he hadn't a care in the world!"

Susan stared into her eyes for a long moment, her pretty features were solemn. Water continued to gush from the fountain, the sound seemed amplified in the silence. Finally, she murmured, "Why don't you ask him about it yourself?"

Following Susan's gaze, Zia turned and caught sight of the very topic of their conversation leaning against the inside of an archway. Even from a distance Zia could see the strain behind his relaxed posture.

"How long have you been there?" she demanded, leaping to her feet.

"Zia…" Breejit's warning was a throaty growl. All of his fur was bristling, his ears were flat against his head and his lips were pulled back over his teeth.

"Susan, would you mind?" His question was deep, soft and so quiet that his voice only just carried across the small distance.

Susan didn't have to be told twice, however Breejit was nowhere near as willing to leave the pair alone. He glared at the dark-haired boy with all the ferocity his small body could muster. The Human was totally unfazed; he returned Breejit's stare with a calm one of his own, as though they were having a normal conversation over afternoon tea. The Fox's growl caused Zia to whirl around.

"Bree, please!"

Looking hurt, Breejit sent one last scowl in the Human's direction and turned away.

Zia's heart followed Breejit as he slowly slunk away. She turned back to face Edmund but pointedly avoided looking directly at him lest he captivate her with his wide, bottomless eyes.

"Look what you did," she whispered, unable to manage the accusatory hiss she'd been aiming for.

"That wasn't me," Edmund replied flatly.

Her eyes narrowed even as she felt her shoulders sag. She sank wearily onto the edge of the fountain and rested her forehead on upturned palms. She tensed and shuffled away when he sat beside her, raising her head to look up at him.

"If you're going to say something, I'd rather you just get it over with," she said bitterly.

After remaining silent for a few moments, Edmund murmured, "I didn't come here to pick a fight, Zia."

She scoffed and looked away, causing him to sigh in exasperation.

"Do you not believe that I scoured the whole country looking for you after you ran off?"

"Then why didn't you find me? Every creature in Western Wood knows of the Grove and my clan. It should have been easy for you."

"I tried!" he cried, his voice breaking. "The Grove was the first place I looked, but you weren't there. I saw your Empress – I saw Nina, and she told me to leave you alone. She told me you never wanted to see me again. The only reason I continued searching after that was in the hope that I could talk to you and get you to explain why you ran away. I thought if I could see you face to face it would change your mind."

Zia wondered why Nina had been so protective over her whenever Edmund was involved; she hadn't been aware of half of what had happened between them. "What about Pelerine?" she asked. "You seemed happy enough with her."

Edmund's eyes went wide. "How do you..? Did you..?" Zia held his gaze levelly until he finally whispered, "Oh."

"I came looking for you. I found you with her. How do you think I felt then?"

No answer.

"Did you enjoy spending time with her?" she demanded, although she was sure she really didn't want to know.

"Well… of course she's beautiful - I think all Spirits are. She has a great sense of humour and she was a lot of fun to be around." His gaze was steady. He barely blinked as he murmured the words. Something crossed between anger, disbelief and despondence stabbed at Zia's heart like a white-hot blade. What was he trying to do?

For a moment she felt rooted to the spot, and then her whole being lurched as though she had fallen off the edge of a steep cliff and was now hurtling towards the rocks below. She stumbled to her feet, wobbling unsteadily. Edmund saw his opportunity and seized her hand.

"I wasn't finished," he told her calmly. "Can you just save storming off until I've finished?"

She frowned but didn't struggle against his hold.

"Pelerine is amazing," he said. He resumed holding her captive with his gaze. It was so soft and tender, reminding Zia of a similar expression she had seen on his older sister's face.

"Pelerine is amazing," he repeated, "But she has one major flaw."

"What's that?" Zia whispered when he didn't elaborate straight away. Soon she would be sucked right into the depths of those deep brown whirlpools. She was no longer even trying to keep her feet on the ground.

"She isn't you."

With this last whisper, the sky drifted down, wrapped Zia up in a velvet mist and carried her off the ground to float amongst the clouds. She didn't think she would ever come back down again.


	13. The Greatest Mystery

**The Greatest Mystery**

After another exhausting afternoon of rushing around the hospital wing, Alexandra left her patients to rest and exited the confinements of her study with a weary sigh. The dust trapped between the pages of the old volumes she had spent the last two and a half hours poring over had caused her nose to itch maddeningly. Her eyes ached with the strain of squinting at the miniscule print and her vision kept wavering in and out of focus. She needed and deserved a break. Besides, she had something extremely important to tell Edmund - something that couldn't wait to be discussed over dinner.

There were a number of places in Cair Paravel where Alexandra knew for certain she would find her best friend. The first was in his chambers. She knew he wasn't there because the door was unlocked and he rarely occupied them in the time between mid-morning and late evening, anyway. Second, the library, but a quick scout around the shelves confirmed his absence from there. The council room was devoid of councillors and the throne room was empty of anything but the thrones themselves. There were no fresh scuffs in the sand of the training ring. This left the final location and the certainty that she would find him there, which was just as well since she was starting to feel a little anxious.

When she arrived at the palace gardens she immediately picked up on the sound of voices over the tumble of the fountain. One was decidedly female and the other, well, the other she would recognise amongst a hundred others.

Following the direction of the voices, Alexandra crept up to a large flowering shrub and crouched behind it. As she pushed leaves out of her face and parted the branches, the owners of the voices came into view, surrounded by smudges of vibrant colour. Edmund and Zia were sitting side by side on the edge of the fountain, so close they were almost touching. They were conversing in light, airy tones with faint smiles on their lips.

_Oh Ed, you romantic, _Alex thought with a smile as Edmund leaned in close to Zia and gently brushed his hand against hers.

Then, something entirely different and a lot more sinister hit her. It was happening. She'd been about to tell Edmund that she'd had a dream about him and Zia the previous night. Now the scene from that dream was unfolding right before her eyes. Except, this time, she wouldn't wake up in a cold sweat. Her dreams had predicted the future often enough for there to be no question that the pictures behind her eyes would eventually become reality.

Although it was a great shame to interrupt such a pleasant conversation, there were more pressing matters at hand. Moving slowly so they wouldn't notice her - and therefore wouldn't accuse her of spying - Alexandra rose from her crouch and made her way towards the fountain. Neither Edmund nor Zia looked up as she stopped before them. She loudly cleared her throat and they both jumped apart like they'd been poked with red-hot irons.

"Er… hi," Edmund said, squinting sheepishly up at her whilst fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. "What brings you here on this fine afternoon?"

"I need to speak with you," she told Edmund. "It's very important."

"Can't it wait?" he asked, glancing at his companion, who was twiddling the hem of her dress and refusing to look at either of them.

"No," Alexandra replied firmly. "I must speak with you _now_."

Edmund sighed in defeat. Turning to Zia, he said apologetically, "Would you excuse me for a few minutes?"

Zia nodded hastily. Alexandra had to force her mouth not to smile; from the way the two of them were acting, anyone would've thought they'd been caught doing something far worse than just talking.

As soon as they were out of Zia's sight and earshot, Alexandra grabbed Edmund's forearm and pulled him close, struggling to think of the right way to introduce what she had to say.

Edmund read the expression on her face and his eyes grew even larger. "What is it, Alex? Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly. Well, not yet, anyway."

"What do you…? Wait, did you have another dream?"

She nodded. Edmund was the only one Alexandra trusted with her dreams. "I saw you with her, just as you were today. I saw you talking and laughing together on the edge of the fountain."

He frowned in confusion. "So? Surely that's a good thing? I mean, we haven't been able to talk like that since…"

Alexandra held up her hand. "I know. I've heard the story a thousand times. The point is the dream didn't end there. It changed and I saw," she dropped her voice down to a whisper, "I saw Zia locked up in a cell."

"A _cell_?" he repeated incredulously. "Are you sure?"

"You should know by now that my dreams can predict the future!" she hissed, looking around in case there was someone listening in. "Just because Zia is involved it doesn't mean I'm wrong. Or are you going to start turning a blind eye to anything bad that concerns her? The Just King I know wouldn't do that, Ed."

Edmund knew she was right. Aslan, she was _always_ right!

"Look," she began again, more calmly, "I know that things are a little… _delicate_ when it comes to the two of you, but if you want to keep her safe then listen to me. If she ever leaves Cair Paravel, she must be under supervision at all times. If my dream is correct, the moment she's alone will be the moment they strike."

"Who are _they, _exactly?"

"I'm not sure. All I saw was a mass of dark shapes. But I'm willing to bet that it's either Calormen or those horrible beasts that killed Nina."

Edmund exhaled slowly. "Alright, I understand. I'll protect her, I promise."

Alexandra smiled softly. "I know you will. Now, you'd better go. I think I've kept you from her for long enough."

He returned her smile and pulled her into a quick, grateful hug. "Thank you."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for," she replied lightly, pushing him back. "Now get back to your fair lady, out of my sight. Go on."

She gave his shoulder a push and he dived for her ribs, tickling her until her indignant squeals turned into gasps for air. "Let's not forget who the King around here is," he teased, ruffling her hair until it stuck up in every direction. At her raised eyebrow, he added, "Alright, _one_ of the Kings. Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"Okay, I'm leaving," she said, tossing a grin over her shoulder as she turned away. She paused and turned back. "Oh, Ed?"

"Yes, Alex?"

Without warning, Alexandra launched herself at him and used both hands to thoroughly mess up his previously tidy hair.

"_That_ is for being a typical boy and ruining my hair." Laughing, she let him go and he hastily began to smooth down his hair with a pout.

"I _am_ a boy, in case you hadn't noticed!" he shouted after her as she left.

Just then, Zia appeared beside him, seemingly from nowhere. She watched Alexandra go with a strange expression on her face. "I heard screaming," she said.

"Oh, don't mind that. It was just Alex," he replied with a rueful smile.

"What did she want to tell you?" Zia asked curiously, peering up at his face. The leaves on the tree above them cast splodges of shadow across his milky skin.

"Nothing much," he said offhandedly. "She was just worried about something and she wanted to tell someone about it to help her clear it up. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Oh, that's alright. The relationship between you two seems pretty special."

Before Edmund could reply, the resounding bong of the dinner bell made them both jump. Neither had realised how late it was. Looking up, they saw that the sky had faded to a soft, pale blue and faint pink streaks were beginning to appear.

"I suppose I'd better go," Edmund murmured. He didn't really want to leave her, although his stomach was now growling with the anticipation of food. "Meet me at the stables in about an hour and I'll have a surprise waiting, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

After wolfing down his dinner (and receiving several bemused glances from his companions), Edmund practically skipped from the castle and headed across the courtyard towards the stables. Upon rounding a corner, he was suddenly brought back down to earth with a bump. There was no one waiting for him by the stable block. Doubt instantly squashed his elated thoughts. Why wouldn't she give him a _break_?

Frustrated, Edmund aimed a kick at the wall. The leather boot did little to protect his foot from the unforgiving stone. Biting his lower lip against a yelp, he sagged back against the offending wall and gingerly massaged his injured toes.

The sound of tentative footsteps made him look up. He would have danced for joy had he not just been rendered unable to do so. Zia's eyebrows were raised quizzically at him and he realised how idiotic he must look.

"What happened?" she asked, switching her gaze from his face to the foot he still had clasped in both hands.

"Nothing," he said hastily. He didn't know why he thought she would believe such a blatant lie but he felt the need to at least try to regain some of his lost dignity.

"Did you kick a wall?" she asked, sounding as though she was fighting back a giggle.

"No! Maybe…"

She sighed, rolled her eyes and said, "Come here, let me have a look," like she was talking to a silly child.

"It's really not that bad," he protested. His statement was contradicted as soon as his foot made contact with the ground. Pain shot up his leg and he jerked it back, hissing through his teeth.

"Looks like you're not as tough as you make out," Zia muttered under her breath, guiding him down to sit on the floor.

Gently, as though handling a wounded bird, she took his foot between her hands and slid off his boot and sock. After a bit of careful prodding, his groan indicated where the injury was. Zia had never had chance to put this part of her training into practise before, but definitely wasn't going to tell Edmund that.

The king watched her closely; unaware that he was holding his breath. She ran her slender fingers in little circles over the rapidly-swelling bruise. As she did so, the pain eased. Her lips were moving in a silent rhythm but he wasn't interested in the words. Those lips were so red, like the petals of the most exquisite rose. She must have known he was gawking but her attention never wavered from her work. It felt as though she was sucking the pain out through her fingertips; just taking it away as though she did it all the time. He suddenly remembered to breathe and drew in a sharp gasp, which Zia mistook.

"Does it still hurt?" she whispered timidly. He could do nothing more than forcefully shake his head. "Well, the bruise is definitely gone," she remarked, indicating the spot that, just moments before, had been aching furiously. "You should really be more careful about what you choose to take your anger out on."

Edmund finally managed to mirror her smirk. An experimental wiggle of his toes told him that all was healed – somehow – so he jumped to his feet and offered her his hand. They'd wasted enough time already.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me how you did that?" he asked casually as he saddled up a horse.

Zia just shrugged, patting the neck of a stocky chestnut mare in the opposite stall. "I don't think you would understand."

Edmund decided to let her have that one and dropped the subject. They mounted their chosen steeds (Zia's horse remained without a saddle) and rode side by side away from Cair Paravel.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me where it is that you're taking me?" Zia questioned.

"Nope, it's a surprise. Shall we have a gallop?"

Without giving her chance to reply, Edmund dug his heels into his horse's flanks and they shot off at full speed. Edmund knew Zia would only be a few paces behind – she seemed fairly good at keeping up with him. He wished he could say the same for her. He had never wanted to be able to read someone as much as he wanted to read her. Then, perhaps, things between them wouldn't be so hit-and-miss. He never had any idea how she was going to react to anything he said or did. It was infuriating.

Determined to stop himself before he had chance to get frustrated again (he really didn't want to suffer an impairment at the hands of a large boulder), he reined his horse in and wasn't at all surprised to see Zia do the same right beside him. The flush on her cheeks seemed to glow in the dim light. He tore his eyes away before she noticed he was staring.

He needn't have worried; she seemed to be looking everywhere but in his direction. Recognition dawned on her face and she halted her horse, her eyes wide and staring at him in disbelief.

"You're taking me to the beach?"

"Yes," he replied, puzzled, as always, by her reaction. "I thought it was fitting, since it's technically where we first met."

"And where I saw you with Pelerine," she said quietly.

Edmund only just stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "That was _years _ago. She's no longer part of my life, Zia. All I ask is that you trust me, even if it's just for a short while."

"Fine," she surrendered. As he moved his horse away, she allowed herself a small smile. His throwaway remark about that auburn-haired Nymph had caused a swell of something inside her that verged on smugness - odd, since she hadn't seen Pelerine in over a year. She had no reason to feel as though the two of them were still involved in some sort of competition.

The beach appeared exactly the same as it had on the night of which Edmund spoke - the night that Zia had first seen him. The same orange sun, the same pink and blue sky, the same calm, lazy ocean… even the shadows were the same shape, as if nothing had changed in the five year interval between their visits. Yet, everything had changed.

Leaving the horses tied to a tree, they wandered side by side down the gentle slope and onto the sand. A huge grin stretched across Zia's face when she felt the grains shifting beneath her bare feet; she had forgotten what it felt like and how much it tickled.

"Would you like to know the real reason I brought you here?" he asked as he watched her dance gracefully in the white surf like a fairy.

"Mmm" was her vague reply. She seemed fascinated with the way the sun made the drops of water sparkle as she kicked them up into the air.

"Well, I hoped it would give me chance to find out a little more about you," he admitted, standing nervously on the shore. "You're such a mystery to me and it's driving me insane."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. Stepping up close so that their noses were mere inches apart, she whispered, "I like being mysterious."

Her green eyes filled his vision. All the air whooshed out of his lungs in one long breath. He couldn't remember how to move his mouth. His brain couldn't remember how to command the rest of him. He didn't care.

Chuckling at his dazed expression, she grabbed his hand and tugged him into the water. They splashed each other and skipped about like children, laughing hysterically the whole time. They laughed at how ridiculous they both were. They laughed at how aggravating the other was. They laughed at the whole crazy predicament they had got themselves into. They laughed until they could laugh no more and still they carried on, wheezing and spluttering and bracing their hands on their soaked knees.

"So what is it you want to know?"

Having finally calmed down after their burst of high spirits, they had dragged themselves from the sea and flopped down on the sand to dry off. Edmund lay propped up on one elbow, resting his head on his palm and facing Zia. She sat an arm's length away, her knees tucked up under her chin as she stared out at the setting sun.

"I want to know what you did in those four years that I never saw you," he replied immediately. His hair was plastered to his head in the most un-kingly fashion and his shirt clung to his chest so snugly that Zia couldn't look for more than a second without her cheeks heating up.

She let out a long breath and pushed her own sopping hair back off her face. "Well, I mostly trained. I learned archery and healing and all sorts of other skills. It took up the majority of my time."

Edmund nodded. "I understand."

"Can I ask you something now?"

"Of course."

She lifted her head to look him straight in the eyes. "Why did you wait for me for so long, even after Nina told you to leave me alone?"

His grin was lopsided and melted her heart just a little. "Isn't that obvious?"

"Yes," she replied. "But I want to hear you say it in your own words."

"You don't ask much, do you?" he teased, sitting up. He reached across the gap between them and carefully took her hands in his.

"I waited for you because, although I'd only known you for a short time, you fascinated me. I found myself wanting – _needing_ – to be near you. You made me feel alive, more alive than I'd felt in a very long time. As soon as I let Mr Tumnus take you I wished to have you back, but Lucy insisted that I finish the dance with her. When I looked back again, you were gone. I can't describe how disappointed I felt then. Disappointed isn't even the right word. I was… well, I was crushed. I knew then that I wouldn't be able to bear not seeing you again. I was about to start after you, but Pelerine caught me and…" he trailed off, apology shining in his eyes.

"And the rest, as they say, is history," Zia finished for him.

"You're not going to yell at me?"

"No. Believe it or not, I don't want to fight you all the time."

The sun painted the world orange and wrapped the two of them in a warm blanket. The sea continued to sigh rhythmically and somewhere near the edge of the forest crickets began to sing.

"I didn't know you were such a romantic," Zia commented with a soft smile. His hands were rough with calluses but they held hers so tenderly that her chest ached.

"I'm full of surprises," he smirked with a shrug. "You'll soon learn that. That is, if you plan on staying at the Cair?"

She groaned quietly. "I've been thinking about that a lot over the past few days, but I can't make my mind up about what the right choice would be."

"Well, you obviously know what I want you to do." He slowly stroked his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. "I don't ever want you to leave my sight again."

"Ed…" she protested, "I have to think about my people. They just lost their Empress and will be looking to elect a new one as soon as possible. It wouldn't be right if I wasn't there."

"I know that. Maybe you could go back to Western Wood just to see the new Empress take up her position and then come back to the Cair?"

"I'm really not sure about that. I'll be eternally grateful for the kindness you have all shown me, but I don't belong with you. Someone like me can't ever fit in amongst Humans, let alone Kings and Queens."

"Please don't ask me to endure the sight of you running away from me for the third time."

Zia looked down at their hands, unable to bear the sadness in his eyes. Her dark stranger looked so hopeless that it was hard to believe he had only recently led an army into battle. She didn't want to admit it, but she knew where her priorities must lie.

"Alright, Ed, I'll stay." She hadn't the heart to add, _for now._

Edmund's lips stretched into a wide grin. He pulled the Dryad to her feet and moved his hands to her waist before she had time to get away. A faint perfume of pine needles and rain wafted from her skin; he inhaled it hungrily, convinced that it was the most glorious scent in the world.

Zia watched the happiness flare in Edmund's eyes with a sinking heart. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him again, but she knew she couldn't live with herself if she abandoned her people. They were probably getting worried – none of them knew much about Humans and, as far as they knew, anything could be happening to her. She needed to be close to her tree again - Alexandra's potion was keeping her mind from collapsing but it did nothing to ease the longing. How in Aslan's name could she choose between her desires when there was no way for them to coincide?

The arms around her waist tightened, pulling her forward until she was pressed against Edmund's chest. Seeing his eyes so close was enough to make her head spin and the fact that his breath was washing across her skin didn't help in the slightest. Wrapping her arms around his neck in a near chokehold, she buried her face in his shoulder and willed the internal aching away.


	14. Thieves in the Night

**Thieves in the Night**

"I really don't trust this place."

It was a beautiful day - summer was definitely on its way. The sky was a soft, cloudless blue, allowing the sun to cast down its rays and illuminate the many brightly coloured flowers that decorated the garden. Pinks, yellows, reds and oranges shimmered as the plants swayed in the whispering breeze. It played with the hem of Zia's dress and the ends of her hair, and rippled through Breejit's glossy fur.

"Hm?" Zia paused next to a particularly stunning red rose, bending to sniff its heady aroma. Beside her, Breejit sighed in frustration.

"You're not even listening, are you?"

"Of course I am," she replied vaguely, affirming Breejit's accusation. It was just too nice outside to feel anything but peaceful and enjoy the nature surrounding them. Ever since that evening at the beach, Zia was certain she had grown wings and was soaring off into the sky although her feet were still firmly in touch with the ground. Maybe Alex was drugging her again.

Exasperated, the Fox trotted ahead and stopped directly in front of her, blocking her path. "Look at yourself," he urged. "You've been drifting around like you're under some kind of spell. Have you forgotten where you truly belong?"

Zia scowled down at him. "Don't you dare say things like that to me. Ever."

"What are you doing here, Zia? What is your purpose amongst these people?"

She opened her mouth to retaliate, tell him to stop meddling in her personal decisions, but the voice of reason unhelpfully informed her that he was right. She needed to wake up. She needed to go home. She missed the Grove. She missed being able to run through the forest until she couldn't run any further, the sense of family between the members her clan and sleeping under the stars in the branches of her tree. Yet, she was still very reluctant to leave the Cair. She could think of many reasons to explain this, but only one was important and still none of them made what she was doing right.

Instead of inventing a lie (which she was not very good at doing), she avoided the question. "Why are we even talking about this, anyway? Do you have something against the people here? They've been nothing but hospitable towards us."

"I know, but -"

"If you don't want to stay, you're quite welcome to leave. I'm not going to stop you."

His liquid brown eyes suddenly solidified. "If you think I'm going anywhere without you, you're greatly mistaken." His voice was little more than a throaty, animalistic growl. "I'm not giving up on you, Zia - or whoever it is that you've become."

She couldn't think of a reply to that. Despite her stomping on Breejit's concern and affection for her like a crazed Giant, he wouldn't leave her alone until he got his way. Accepting that his way was the right way was something she wasn't quite ready to do yet.

"I have to go. I need to sort some things out," she said hurriedly.

The slippers on her feet scuffed the path as she headed for the cool shade indoors. Her feet carried her through the stone corridors with almost no command from her brain. She pushed out Breejit's hurtful words and instead her mind wandered through jumbled thoughts of marble stone walls and of huge flourishing trees that reminded her of the grove. She closed her eyes, listening to her memories of birds singing in the treetops. She could remember the smell of the pine trees and flowers; she could almost feel the soft earth under her feet. She could even remember the warmth of the sun enveloping her tree. The images became so realistic that for a second she was convinced she was back home. Her eyes flashed open, only to find a set of large double doors. A sigh of longing deflated her chest as her hand reached forward. Sadly, she ran her fingers over the varnished oak before pushing the handle on the left and entering a room she hadn't been in before.

The room was vast and filled with thousands of shelves completely packed with hardback books and rolled-up parchment. There were cushioned seats clustered in the corners. A small fireplace took up the far wall and was surrounded by high-backed armchairs and footstools. In the centre of the room stood a large rectangular table which groaned under the weight of piles upon piles of books, papers and maps. Dust motes danced in the sunlight shining through the high windows and the air was filled with a musty scent remarkably similar to that of the forest.

Zia stepped carefully around the room, running her fingers over everything within arms' length. Upon lifting the cover of one of the books, she was instantly baffled by the ordered chaos of black lines that stained the parchment. Books were curious things indeed; a tale of any description possible could be fashioned just from a few squiggles on a page.

With her curiosity fully aroused, Zia ventured amongst the many towering bookshelves that took up one half of the room. It was astounding how many books just one family could own. As she passed the third shelf, she paused in surprise. Standing on top of a rickety ladder was Alexandra. She was dressed in a deep blue dress that reached her ankles and hugged her shapely frame. There was something strange perched on the bridge of her nose; it was like two small windows, which the physician peered through as she struggled to stretch for a book just out of her reach.

"Alex?" The girl jumped in surprise, her attention snapping to Zia. The ladder wobbled dangerously before tipping to the side. Alexandra lost her footing and slipped down the falling ladder with a yell. Zia hurried forward and quickly steadied the girl before she landed on the unforgiving stone floor. "Are you alright?"

"Thank you, I'm fine," she said breathily, feeling slightly flustered as she stepped down. She frowned at the ladder on the floor and pushed the weird contraption in front of her eyes further up her nose. "That ladder is going to be the death of me."

"Then why don't you get it fixed?"

"The carpenter is away fixing a door that was broken by a frightened goat. Poor thing ended up butting it to pieces and coming to me complaining of a headache." Alexandra shook her head as a small chuckle left her lips.

"What were you looking for?"

"There's this book about Bezoars and other antidotes to poisons." Alexandra spoke over her shoulder as she began to climb back up the ladder. "I haven't made any antidotes for poisons yet."

"Why would you need antidotes for poisons?"

"Oh… just in case. You never know. Could you hold the ladder still for me, please?" Zia did as she was told and watched Alexandra reach for the troublesome book again.

"So what brings you to the castle library?"

"Oh," Zia mumbled, suddenly remembering the morning's events. "I had a bit of an argument with Breejit. I came inside and my feet sort of just… brought me here."

"So you weren't intentionally looking for me, then?" Alexandra teased. "What was the argument about?"

"He doesn't like it here," Zia found herself blurting out. "He wants me to go back home."

"Oh, I see. Well, do you want to go back?" She began to make her way cautiously down the ladder, clutching the book to her chest with one hand.

"I don't know… I feel so conflicted," Zia confided. "I'm not entirely sure where I belong any more. I mean, I know I should go back to the Grove. It will soon be time for a new Empress to be named."

"Perhaps that's why you don't want to go back. Maybe you feel like Nina is being replaced?" Alex said prudently, tucking her long hair behind her ear as she stepped away from the shelf.

"No, I don't think that's it. I know this is the way things have to be, whether I like it or not. My people need me – I should be there to witness the coronation. But…"

"Let me make an educated guess. The reason you want to stay has got something to do with Edmund."

"How did you guess?" Zia inquired.

"Let's just say I'm psychic," the physician replied with a warm smile. She started towards the table in the middle of the room.

"What's the relationship between you and Edmund?" she asked suddenly. The words came out sharper than she'd intended.

"Oh." Alexandra turned her attention to the book in front of her and began turning the pages. "Well, Edmund and I… we have an understanding."

"What kind of understanding?" Zia pressed, her eyes narrowing.

"Why do you want to know?" Alexandra questioned with a wry smile.

"I've seen the way you two behave around each other. It strikes me as odd that someone like the Court Physician would be so close to the royal family." She was really beginning to sound jealous now, and the physician noticed.

"Look Zia," she sighed tiredly, her hand reaching up to her forehead as if warding out a headache, "I care about Edmund. I care about all of the Pevensies a lot. They're my family and Edmund's my closest friend." She began to methodically clear away the things on the table, her eyes pointedly avoiding Zia's.

"But _how_ close are you?"

Alexandra rounded on her with a hard look on her face. "Zia, please, I really don't like talking about this. Just ask me something else."

An uncomfortable silence descended between them and Alex fidgeted with hem of her sleeve. Minutes passed by before she spoke again.

"I'm sorry Zia, I shouldn't have done that. I know you're just curious."

She wandered over to a seat by the fireplace. Zia copied her; sitting in the seat furthest from the fire.

Alex rested her elbows on her knees before continuing in a weary voice. "Edmund and I are like kindred spirits - no, even closer than that - like twins but from different families. Well, that's how I've always seen it. I don't ever want to see him hurt, Zia. It was bad enough seeing him miserable after the Summer Solstice. He barely left his room for two weeks after he was with Pelerine at the beach. He felt so guilty…" She looked up and fixed her companion with hard eyes. "I will not see Edmund go through all that pain again. He's already had a tough time."

Zia clenched her jaw. She wasn't the only one with the power to do damage in this situation. "I won't hurt him if he doesn't hurt me," she said levelly.

Alex's eyes softened. "Zia… do you have feelings for Ed?"

"I don't quite know yet," she admitted.

Alexandra compulsively rose and crossed the room to put her arm around Zia's narrow shoulders. Their eyes met and a simple understanding passed between them. Alex's first priority would always be Edmund, and Zia's first priority lay elsewhere.

"Do you think I should go back?" Zia whispered.

Alex's answer was one she'd known all along. "It's where you belong."

* * *

After leaving the library, Zia found and apologised to Breejit. He was relieved to hear of her decision to return to the Grove but tried his best to hide it when he caught the sad twinge in her smile. The sooner she was as far away from the Human King as possible, the better. When Lucy heard the news that they were leaving she insisted they stay for one last meal before departing for Western Wood the next morning. She didn't seem obliged to acknowledge the fact that Dryads couldn't eat human food; Zia's protests were silenced immediately and she was dragged away by the hand to hunt for a suitable dress for that evening. Breejit was taken away by a couple of Otters and given a thorough scrubbing and his fur was brushed until it gleamed like copper.

Lucy finally gave Zia a moment's peace whilst she bustled off to get herself ready for the feast. As the door closed behind her, Zia examined her reflection in the full length mirror on the wall for the hundredth time. She barely recognised herself swathed in the dark purple gown with its minute patterns embroidered in silver thread. Her hair was down and pooled about her shoulders, silky to the touch. The girl in the mirror looked like a princess. The Dryad on the other side felt lost.

"I can't do this," she whispered to her reflection. "This isn't me."

Behind the girl in the mirror, Zia glimpsed a flash of red. Turning, her eyes fell upon her bow and quiver of arrows, lying forlornly on a chair as though abandoned. She picked the bow up and the familiar thrum of power surged through her fingers, shooting up her whole arm like a bolt of lightning. The bow was a part of her - part of who she really was.

_I have to get out of here, now._

Slinging the bow across her back, Zia did a quick assessment of the room. There were only two ways out - the door and the balcony. Since there were servants bustling about in every corridor and there was a chance that Lucy would be back any second, the door was out of the question. She headed out onto the balcony and leaned over the railing. Dusk was gathering and the ground was all but hidden by shadows. Jumping would be suicide; it was such a long way down and she didn't know how much level ground there was before the cliff dropped down to the beach.

The thought of the beach started a whole chain of memories, all of them full of large brown eyes and a sparkling smile. She wouldn't even get the chance to tell him goodbye.

A sudden knock at the door was like a clap of thunder. Zia started, lost her balance and almost catapulted over the railing. Gasping for breath, she struggled upright and backed up until she was safely back in the chamber.

"May I come in?"

"Just a minute!" Her voice sounded far too breathy and panicked. She fought to calm herself down as she walked slowly across the room. After a few centuries had passed, she deemed it safe enough to greet whoever had decided to interrupt her escape.

Edmund's pale face broke into a heart-stopping grin when he saw her. Zia cursed him under her breath. He had almost caused her to fall to her death and was now determined to see his murder mission through by looking so… what? Regal wasn't the word she was after and she _definitely_ wasn't going to say handsome.

"What can I do for you, Edmund?"

He was standing with his hands behind his back like a butler, which was quite amusing considering that he was dressed in silk, velvet and silver from head to toe. He brought his hands out in front of him, revealing a small rectangular box. Zia gazed down at it, unsure of what to do.

"Open it," he whispered.

With trembling fingers, she did as he asked. As she lifted the lid of the box, something gold gleamed in the candlelight. Picking it up, Zia saw that it was a pendant - a cluster of five leaves arranged in a triangle, each one engraved in exquisite detail. The chain was also made of gold, delicate and fine.

"Oh, Ed…" she breathed, "It's lovely."

"I thought it might remind you of home," he explained as his cheeks flushed. "I thought maybe it would make you feel closer to the forest. So you could stay here and not miss it so much."

He was certainly persistent, but the intent behind the gift was having the opposite effect to what he had desired. Zia's conversations with Breejit and Alexandra on top of her escape attempt were enough to prove what she had to do. The object she held in her hands was fit for a princess; a princess she would never – could never – be.

Edmund held out his hand for the necklace, intending to be the one to fasten it around her neck. The expression on her face caused his whole body to freeze.

"Ed, I can't," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

She pushed the necklace into his trembling hand and hurried away down the corridor. Upon rounding a corner she almost ran straight into Breejit. He was looking far better for his pampering session: his fur was soft and glossy, his claws clipped and neat, his whiskers trimmed and groomed to perfection. He caught her mood instantly and trotted at her heels as she continued on. They found the first door that led outside and went through it, hurrying out into the serene evening.

When they were a good distance from the castle, on the outskirts of the forest, Zia flopped down on the grass. It was a miracle that no guards had been there to stop her. Would she have changed her mind if there had been?

"What's wrong?" Breejit murmured, pushing his nose into her hand. She fondled his ears absentmindedly and gazed out at the dark mass of vegetation. Out here in the open, the forest seemed to call to her.

"Do you remember what I asked you that day at the beach?" she whispered.

"Of course," he replied, settling himself close to the warmth of her body. "You wanted to know what Cair Paravel was like on the inside."

She smiled. "Well, now I know, and it's even more beautiful than I imagined. Don't you agree?"

"Indeed. But does the beauty lie in the stonework itself, or in the creatures that reside within it?"

"Both," she answered immediately, "Although a little more in one than the other."

"I thought so."

"But the forest is also beautiful," she continued dreamily. "And the creatures within it are all equally special in their own ways. We'll always belong there, won't we, Bree?"

"I'm sure you already know the answer to that." He peered up at her face, made pale by the bold glow of the moon. "Won't you tell me what's really bothering you? I thought you'd already made up your mind about where your priorities lie?"

"I have," she affirmed. "It's just going to be hard to say goodbye to them all." _To Edmund especially,_ she added to herself.

A sudden sharp sound cracked through the still air, startling the pair and causing them to leap to their feet. Both Dryad and Fox searched the darkness, their hearts pounding in their chests. "It was just a bird," Breejit said after a few minutes. His tone was hopeful and a little shaky.

"No, it was too heavy to be a bird," Zia argued, wishing she hadn't left her bow in her room. She felt completely powerless without it.

The rumbling roar of a huge beast confirmed Zia's statement as a swarm of shadows detached from the edge of the forest and surged towards them. Metal glinted savagely and a stampede of hooves flattened the grass as they charged up the hill. They were so quick and had come completely out of nowhere. Zia had no time to react before a pair of huge, furry hands grabbed her arms and wrenched them behind her back. She cried out at the pain and heard Breejit's answering howl as he was roughly scooped up by another of the leering shapes.

"It would be in your best interests to keep quiet, girlie," snarled a deep voice from somewhere above her. The familiar rank smell of rotting meat hurt her nose and made her head spin. "Else we'll destroy that worthless building and every living thing inside it. We were planning to do that anyway, but General's orders are to leave it be until the time is right. But that doesn't mean we won't take it to pieces a little early if necessary. Understand?"

Feeling light-headed and with her vision swimming, Zia couldn't find the strength to push past the shock that trapped her inside her frozen limbs. She could no longer hear Breejit's whimpers over the hooves that pounded the earth like a war drum.

They'd come back to get her. They would avenge the death of the Minotaur and make sure she suffered the same fate that had befallen Nina. Zia could only hope that they'd spare Breejit – they had no reason to kill him. But the odds of either of them surviving, if the intent of these creatures was to destroy them, didn't look hopeful at all.


	15. The Revelation

**The Revelation**

The farewell feast for Zia and Breejit was almost ready. Delicious aromas of chicken and garlic drifted tantalizingly throughout the castle, mixed with the faint but discernible scent of earth. The cooks had enlisted the assistance of a small group of Nymphs who lived close by to prepare a meal suitable for Cair Paravel's Dryad guest. Servants bustled around the dining hall, polishing the silverware and lighting candles according to Susan's instructions. The occasion may not have been overly special, but the Gentle Queen was determined to at least make it appear so.

Alexandra preferred to escape from the busy preparations by hiding away in the library. The book she had found that morning lay open on her lap and her glasses were perched on her nose. She'd been vague when explaining her desire to research antidotes to Zia; truthfully, she had a very good reason. Another nightmare had plagued her the previous night. There had been no time to tell Edmund about it – her conscience wouldn't rest until she'd done something to prepare for what was coming.

The sound of the dinner bell made her rise unwillingly from her comfortable chair by the fire. No sooner was she on her feet than a rush of nausea barrelled into her and she bent double. Her arms automatically crossed over her abdomen. Darkness danced at the edge of her vision. She stumbled backwards and thudded down onto the chair behind her. She barely heard the knock at the door over the ringing in her ears. Suddenly Lucy was beside her, gripping her arm and calling her name.

"Alex? Alex, are you alright?"

She barely managed to shake her head before lurching forward, coughing and gasping for breath. Lucy caught and steadied her, rubbing gentle circles over her back until the chokes subsided. "Would you like me to fetch my cordial?" the young Queen asked when Alex was able to breathe again.

As soon as the question left Lucy's mouth, the dizziness seemed to retreat and Alex's rolling stomach settled down again. She eased her eyes open and stared at Lucy, whose expression mirrored her own confusion.

"What happened?" asked Lucy.

"I don't know, it was strange," Alex murmured. "It was like I'd suddenly caught the flu. I thought I was going to vomit and then pass out, but I feel fine now."

"Are you sure?"

"Perfectly sure," Alex smiled, hiding the fact that her brain was now working overtime, searching for an explanation. "Come on, I expect the others are already waiting for us." She looped her arm through Lucy's and the two girls headed for the dining hall.

Upon their arrival, they discovered that only two of the chairs around the dining table were occupied. Peter sat at the far end with Susan on his left, both looking slightly annoyed at everyone else's poor timekeeping. "Well it's about time!" Peter exclaimed as soon as his sister and friend entered the room. "Where are the others?"

"We thought they'd already be here," Alexandra replied in confusion. "Have you not seen them?"

"Ed and I were training earlier this afternoon," said the High King. "We retired to prepare for the feast and Ed seemed extremely worked up about something. His eyes were sparkling like jewels. He said something about an important thing he had to do and off he went."

"I was with Zia not half an hour ago," Lucy added. "But when I went back to her chambers to retrieve her, she wasn't there." The door burst open. Edmund strode in, a frantic light in his eyes. Before reaching the table, he stopped short and stared around at the four of them, blinking as though to clear his vision. Alexandra went immediately to his side.

"Ed? What's going on? Where's Zia?"

He looked down into her hazel-brown as though seeing her for the first time. "I thought she'd be here," he whispered finally. The others barely caught the words.

Alexandra glanced from Peter to Susan and back again. The same solemn expression was present on both their faces.

From the look on her best friend's face, Edmund had reached the same conclusion as his siblings. He thudded heavily down into a chair, his clenched fist unfurling. Something heavy clattered onto the table.

It took the combined efforts of Susan, Lucy and Alexandra to get Edmund to a small side chamber away from the concern of any passing servants. They lowered him into an armchair. His pale face remained blank, his eyes far away.

"I don't believe this," Alex groaned, glancing at the immobile figure from the doorway. "She told me she wouldn't do this again!"

Susan was quick to place a comforting hand on the Court Physician's shoulder. "How do we know she ran away again? There could be another explanation."

"I don't see…" Alex started, but was interrupted by the arrival of Peter. The four of them sent a collective glance at the dark-haired King. If the firelight wasn't casting a glow across his moving chest, he might have been dead. They watched him breathe for a while before Peter spoke up.

"This is the last thing we need," he murmured. His voice was annoyed and weary. "Those beasts haven't yet been taken care of. I don't think we can afford to send out a search party for Zia. If an enemy were to attack without warning, we'd need every soldier we can get." He ran a hand through his blonde hair and sighed.

Edmund jerked at the mention of the girl's name. He lifted his head to gaze at the group gathered in the doorway. Something fierce burned deep within his eyes. He pushed himself up from the chair, wobbling a little. Lucy rushed to his side but he waved her away. "Peter." He spoke quietly, struggling to force the words up his dry throat. "I don't believe she would run away again. Not after…" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "No, she just wouldn't."

"Then how do you explain her disappearing act?" Alex was struggling to hold back her frustration.

Edmund shook his head. "Alex, I know you're tired of going around in circles but things are different this time. There has to be some other reason."

"Like what? Are you saying she went for a casual stroll in the dark? Fell off the balcony? Got abducted by… _oh_." Alex's eyes fluttered as the vision came back to her. She clutched at Peter for support as she swayed dangerously.

"Alex, what's the matter?"

"Are you alright?"

Alex ignored the concern of the others and stared at Edmund. "Ed, the beasts… they've kidnapped her!"

The Pevensies stared at Alex as though she'd grown another head. The fire crackled. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed. Finally, Peter gave one forceful shake of his head. "No, that's not possible. The guards would have spotted any intruders."

"It's almost completely dark out there," Susan pointed out. "If they were far enough away from the castle the guards wouldn't have been able to see anything."

"How can we be sure?" Peter asked, his voice pitch rising. "We can't just go gallivanting off at Alex's word. What if she's wrong?"

"She's not wrong." This was from Edmund; clear, decisive and absolutely certain. "Alex, tell me what you saw. Tell me everything."

"I told you they'd come for her as soon as she left the castle alone. They'll take her to their General. I saw her in a cell. There was someone else with her…" Her voice dropped. "Ed, I think they're going to kill her."

"Well then we can't just stand around and do nothing!" Edmund barked, heading for the door. "Peter, round up the guards and…"

The High King braced his arm on the door frame, preventing his brother from passing. "Wait, Ed."

"Peter, we haven't got much time!"

"I'm not going to let you do this," Peter said calmly. "As soon as Cair Paravel is unguarded, the enemy will attack. We can't risk everyone's lives for the sake of one. As much as it pains me to stand back and let an innocent Narnian die, by doing so we can save hundreds of people."

"This is Zia we're talking about!" Edmund protested.

Peter glanced at the girls. Each of them shifted their eyes from one King to the other, trying not to make it obvious whose side they were all on. The High King requested to have a moment to talk with his brother in private. The three of them nodded hastily and exited the library, closing the doors behind them.

The older boy walked over to the small fireplace built into the far wall. Resting his elbow on the polished wooden mantelpiece, he rubbed at the side of his head. The dark shadows under his eyes stood stark against the orange light cast on his face by the fire. Being High King was taking its toll on him.

Edmund began to pace up and down, pausing to gaze out of the small window each time he reached the far wall. He wasn't sure what he hoped to see out there, he just longed to be taking action instead of civilly discussing the situation.

"Look, Ed," Peter started tiredly. "You're not thinking rationally at the moment. If it were any other time, with any other life at stake, you would understand my reasoning and agree with it."

"This isn't any other time. This isn't any other life," Edmund replied curtly, not breaking his stride.

"What's so special about her, Ed?" Peter cried. "I feel like I don't understand you at all. Why risk everything for her after what she did to you?"

"If you were in my position you'd understand."

"I would understand if one of the girls had been kidnapped." He turned to watch his brother's restless strides cover the stone floor. "I wouldn't hesitate if you were the one that had been taken."

Edmund stopped. His back was to his brother so Peter wouldn't see the pain in his eyes. "That's precisely it, Pete. We wouldn't be doing this if it was someone _you_ cared about."

"This isn't just about Zia. I could never forgive myself if I lost you."

"I could never forgive myself if I let her die without doing a single thing to stop it." He turned to look his older brother straight in the eyes. "Please Peter, we have to try."

"No."

Edmund's jaw clenched. "Fine." He stalked towards the door. "I'll go by myself."

Peter let out another long sigh and rubbed his jaw. "I didn't want to have to do this to you, Ed. Alex?"

The Court Physician peeked round the door, looking sheepish. "Yes, Pete?"

The High King gave a nod. Alex inclined her head and produced a small cloth bag tied with string from her sleeve. Edmund tried to bolt for the door but Peter grabbed his arms and yanked them behind his back. Edmund knew his older brother was stronger than he was, but that didn't stop him from struggling for all he was worth.

Alex strode up to Edmund with a look of pain painted across her face. "Sorry Ed, but you didn't really give us any choice."

He kicked his legs and yelled threats at Peter as Alex held the bag of herbs close to his face, careful to stay out of range of his flailing limbs. Edmund thrashed his head from side to side as Peter grimly hung on. Alex grabbed a fistful of his hair and shoved the bag against his nose. As he inhaled the fumes, Edmund slowly went limp.

"It's for your own good," Peter murmured as his brother slumped in his arms.

"No, don't… Peter…" the younger boy muttered as fog clouded his mind. "Zia…"

"I'm sorry, Ed."

* * *

Her eyes flickered under their lids. Something heavy held her down - a large blanket of some kind. It pressed her into the rough stone floor. Why couldn't she push it off? Why couldn't she move? Was she dead?

_Edmund…_

Her brain was disconnected from her body; she could feel nothing. She tried to lift her head, twitch her foot, anything. Nothing responded. Were her eyes open? No – everything was dark.

_Where am I?_

Forcing her eyelids to move was an effort in itself. She might as well have kept them shut; everything drowned in shadows so thick that she could have been floating. A faint stinging pain flared in her jaw as it scraped along the unforgiving floor. She clung to that pain, tried to draw it closer. Death couldn't be painful.

_Where are you, Ed?_

A scuffling noise came from somewhere to her right. She tried to tense but her muscles were as flimsy as soggy leaves. The sound came again, muffled as though coming from far away. "Is anyone there?"

She knew that voice – it was from her childhood. There was another awkward shuffle, like something bulky being dragged across the floor. Something touched her bare shoulder. Instinct jerked her away but her body only twitched feebly.

"You know his name," the voice, cracked and broken, murmured. The speaker's mouth was right next to her ear now. "Who are you?"

_What's going on?_

"You're in a cell," the voice answered. Had she been speaking aloud all this time? "They captured you. Why do they want you?"

A bang echoed through the stillness, followed by several aggressive thumps. The owner of the familiar voice retreated, seemingly crawling back to their hiding place. Another bang, and then a bright light appeared. The shadows retreated around where the torch hovered. Zia stared at the flame, not noticing the burning behind her eyes. A sharp gasp came from several feet away.

"Well, I'm impressed that you're already awake," announced the bearer of the torch. "You're a little fighter, aren't you?"

Zia followed the length of the torch with her eyes. The wood transformed into a furry arm, which became a thickly-muscled shoulder, a sturdy neck, then a wide head. Another Minotaur. This one was shorter and narrower than the last one she had encountered. Nonetheless, it seemed to fill what little space there was.

"Don't be frightened," the Minotaur crooned. "You'll be going back to sleep soon."

He crouched in front of her, holding some sort of oddly-shaped container whilst keeping the torch aloft over her head. Every cell in her body screamed at her to move away, to run whilst she had even the smallest sliver of a chance, but she just couldn't move.

"You, come and hold this," the Minotaur gruffly addressed a shadow.

Amazingly, the shadow did as he commanded. It rippled and scuffled across the floor before entering the circle of firelight. Zia barely recognised the figure, but recognise it she did. Her clothes were torn so they barely covered her skin. Her hair had grown, but hung limp, matted and filthy down her back. Her eyes were like ghosts of themselves - dull and devoid of emotion – but the shadows couldn't disguise their once vibrant violet colour.

Zia felt herself swallow – she hadn't even been aware that the Minotaur had been pouring the contents of the bottle down her throat. Her eyes stayed locked on Pelerine's as the fog she had only recently repressed crept back to engulf her once more.


	16. Rescue and Betrayal

**Rescue and Betrayal**

Something woke her. But she wasn't really awake. She couldn't be. The last thing she remembered was Pelerine's unmistakeable violet eyes but she hadn't seen the Nymph for years. There had been a Minotaur and then darkness. None of it made sense. She tried to move but her muscles were sluggish and barely responded. After some struggling she managed to sit up and came face-to-face with solid steel bars. Panic flooded her as she recalled the events of the previous night - if it had even happened the previous night. It was near impossible to keep track of time when everything was submerged in darkness.

"You're awake." The voice didn't sound particularly pleased with the fact it stated. Zia squinted into the shadows, trying to pick out the silhouette of her companion. "Make the most of it. He'll be back in a few minutes."

"Who will?" Zia croaked. Her throat was dry as the desert and tasted like something only scavengers would dare to touch.

"The Minotaur," replied Pelerine's disembodied voice. "I wonder what's in the potion he's been giving you."

"You don't seem overly concerned."

"That's because I'm not. I'd rather you were drugged, that way I don't have to make conversation with you."

Zia leaned back against the rough stone wall. "Doesn't it get lonely?"

"I'm used to it."

"How long have you been here?"

"Too long."

"Why did they put you in a cell?"

Pelerine sighed. "Do you ever stop asking questions?"

Zia refused to be discouraged. "Tell me," she insisted.

"I was put here because I was naive and intent on getting my own way. There, are you happy?"

"Not really, no," Zia replied honestly. "You won't give me proper answers."

"What makes you think I want to give you anything at all?" the Nymph snapped. "You took something from me and gave nothing back. I'm simply returning the favour."

Zia scoffed in disbelief. "Are you still bitter about what happened with Edmund?" Even through the swirling dark, Zia felt the heat of Pelerine's glare.

"Of course I am. You were an annoying child meddling in my affairs. You still are."

"Edmund is no one's property." She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, pulling forward an image of the King's face. A small smile was all she could manage before the reality of her situation chased it away again. "So what happened after the Solstice? Did you two see each other often?"

"He used to ride down to my part of the forest every week. We would walk for hours and talk for even longer. We spent the evenings at the beach." Zia murmured an acknowledgement - she knew about that part. "The time I spent with him was amazing. I'd never felt so strongly about a male creature before - especially not a Human."

"You sound a lot like me," Zia said amusedly. Indeed, she thought, Pelerine wasn't so different from her. It seemed that Zia just had more luck. "You still haven't told me how you ended up here."

"Do you really want to know?" she asked wearily, "Because I have no interest in telling you."

"Fine, don't."

_Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!_

Heavy footfalls cut through the strained silence - as Pelerine had promised, the Minotaur had returned. The flame from his torch caused unnerving shadows to flicker across his hairy face and made his frightening yellow eyes glint maliciously.

"Hello, my pretty."

Keys jangled noisily and the door screeched open. In the Minotaur's huge, gnarled hand was a little glass vial. Zia didn't bother to struggle; her efforts would be useless anyway. She lay back against the wall and allowed the dreamless sleep to reclaim her.

* * *

Queen Lucy stifled a yawn. The hour was far too early to be standing outside the door to her brother's chambers and she hadn't yet eaten breakfast. She had taken over the duty of guarding Edmund whilst the previous watchman - Mr Tumnus - headed down the stairs for something to eat. He had promised her he would be no longer than ten minutes but Lucy felt as though she had been waiting for an hour. For want of something to do, she knocked on the door and waited for a reply. When none came she cracked it open and peered inside. The large room was unusually tidy - the maids had already been in and done their cleaning. The grand four-poster bed draped with a royal-red bedspread was empty but the rumpled sheets and haphazard arrangement of the pillows were obvious work of a recently-surfaced (and probably grumpy) Just King. The door to the balcony was propped open. A light breeze caressed Lucy's long hair as she stepped out into the morning air.

Edmund was hunched over the parapet, staring at the golden sand far below. His jaw was set and his dark eyebrows met over his eyes in a frown that could only be described as brooding. His dark hair stuck up in odd ways and his slender body was swathed in only a white bathrobe. Moving cautiously in her soft slippers so as not to startle him, Lucy braced her hands on the stone parapet beside him and let the salty breeze tickle her face. Edmund did not acknowledge her presence - if he noticed it at all. His resolute silence worried the Valiant Queen - a lifelong grudge against Peter for imprisoning him was a dark cloud that she refused to let hang over Edmund's head.

"I know this isn't fair," she said, laying a hand hesitantly on his arm, "But we have to do as Peter says. He is High King after all and he believes he is acting in your best interests by stopping you from getting yourself killed."

The Just King made no reply. His eyes remained intently fixed on the beach as though he could whip the sand into a storm with his mind.

"Alex left for Archenland this morning." Lucy continued, watching his stony face for a crack of emotion. "She appointed Ivy in charge of the hospital during her absence." Ivy was a Dryad; she had been Alex's tutor during her early years of practising medicine and was now a good friend to all the Pevensies. "She might feel differently to Alex about keeping you up here."

Edmund's chocolate-brown eyes slid closed and a tiny shudder rippled through him. "I hate feeling so _powerless_." He slammed his clenched fist onto the parapet. "I should be out there looking for her, ready to kill anyone who even threatens to hurt her. But instead I'm stuck up here doing absolutely _nothing_." He turned his back on the ocean, disgusted with it for being so blue.

"You're not on your own, Ed," Lucy promised him. A savage emotional whirlwind finally broke through the steely resolve and his face crumpled into despair. With a soft cry Lucy flung her arms around his waist and hugged him with all her strength. "I absolutely swear to you that we'll find a way to rescue her."

"How? Peter has someone guarding my door every minute of every day. I won't be able to get far enough away from the Cair before I'm caught."

"Susan and I are working on a plan," Lucy assured him. "It should be much easier to find a way out of here without anyone noticing now that Alex isn't here."

Edmund nodded. Alex had been watching him like a hawk ever since she first drugged him. Edmund would definitely be having words with his best friend when she returned from her business trip and Zia was safe again.

"There are lots of secret entrances to the Cair. We could use one of those," he said.

"But there are servants all over the place during the day, you'd need to leave when it gets dark and the woods are so much more dangerous then." Lucy frowned slightly up at him. "I hope you don't intend to risk your life to save Zia. I know how important she is to you and I want to see her safe as well but if it comes down to a choice between you and her I'm afraid there's no contest."

"I'll do whatever it takes," Edmund replied monotonously.

The loud _clip-clop_ of hooves on tile startled them both. Lucy put her head round the balcony door to find Tumnus back from his morning meal and loitering in the doorway.

"Oh!" the Faun exclaimed when he saw the two monarchs, "I'm terribly sorry for interrupting, Your Majesties, the door was open and..."

Edmund waved away the Faun's apologies. "That's quite alright. Lucy and I are done." This last was said with a pointed glance at his sister, who left the room after staring intently at him for a few seconds, hoping to convey how much she opposed his decision through her eyes. Edmund either didn't understand the message or disregarded it completely, for his face morphed back into an impassive mask as he watched Tumnus escort Lucy from the room.

"I do hope you weren't waiting long?" Tumnus enquired anxiously once they were out in the corridor.

Although her thoughts were distracted, Lucy managed to reassure the Faun and left him to his duties, heading in the direction of the hospital wing - there was a matter of great urgency to discuss with Ivy.

* * *

Word travelled quickly in Narnia. It was well known throughout the land that Trees loved a good gossip. If ever there was a story worth hearing, the Trees could tell it. If they heard of any goings-on that didn't fit in with the usual activities of the Narnians, they would waste no time in telling anyone and everyone. Within a few hours most of the country would be aware of what was happening.

When the Trees nearest to Cair Paravel witnessed the kidnapping of Zia and Breejit, they hurried to spread the news. Trees, Talking Beasts and forest Spirits alike hurried to and fro with great enthusiasm tinged with a deep worry that two of their fellow Narnians were in trouble and High King Peter seemed to be doing nothing to rescue them.

Davlon learned the news from a Naiad as he stopped to take a drink from the river. As soon as he heard Zia's name his tail swished and he galloped towards the Grove as fast as he could. The Dryads greeted him like an old friend. Every single one of their faces turned serious when he requested an audience with Maia, their new Empress.

Maia was the complete opposite to Nina; whereas Nina had been like a white rose, Maia's skin was tanned, her hair a rich brown and her eyes a deep shade of green. She was not as tall as her predecessor and far less dainty. There was unmistakeable authority in the tilt of her chin and the weight of her gaze.

"I have a matter of utmost importance to discuss with you, Milady," Davlon explained after making his bow. "It concerns Zia."

Maia inhaled sharply. "What has happened?"

"I'm afraid she was kidnapped, Milady."

Maia's brow furrowed and her slender eyebrows knit together. "Kidnapped? By whom?"

"The Trees claim they are allies of the White Witch. She was taken from Cair Paravel last night, along with her friend Breejit the Fox."

Maia's eyes narrowed. "And the Kings and Queens have done nothing in an attempt to rescue her?"

"As of yet they have failed to take action, Milady."

"Then we must take action ourselves," Maia declared. "As a member of my clan, Zia is under my protection and the fact that she was favoured by Nina makes it imperative that we retrieve her as soon as possible."

Davlon bowed again. He thought the Empress' actions a little hasty, but Maia was under a lot of pressure to keep her people strong in their grief and to live up to the example Nina had set. "Is there any way I can assist?"

Maia's dark eyes followed the contours of his muscled body. "I would request that you lead a band of warriors to wherever these allies of the Witch have taken her. Take as many soldiers and weapons as you need."

It surprised Davlon how many people were willing to risk their lives infiltrating the hideout of Zia's abductors to rescue her and Breejit. In the end he chose one hundred of the most able and experienced warriors, including a male Dryad who claimed he did not belong to the clan but was a distant cousin of Nina's and had travelled to Western Wood to pay his respects.

"I am Tigran," he announced, bowing smoothly. "I'm an experienced archer, swordsman and leader, personally appointed second-in-command by my Emperor Regnad."

Davlon raised his eyebrows. Well, Tigran was certainly sure of himself. If he was really everything he claimed to be, he would undeniably be a useful asset.

The small war band set off with a blessing from Maia and a promise to return safely with Zia. Davlon paced at the head of the formation with Seren at his side. Tigran took up the second's traditional position at his right flank. He rested one hand on the hilt of his sword and played absentmindedly with the string of his bow with the other. The rest of the soldiers followed behind, arranged into tidy ranks by Tigran. Davlon had to give him some credit; he knew how to organise an army.

After they had been walking for several hours, Davlon called the troops to a halt. The Centaur split himself off from the rest of the group, hoping to get some idea of their surroundings and the remainder of the journey ahead. Tigran followed almost silently, refusing to be left behind. Running a hand through his fair hair – cropped short to keep it out of his eyes – Tigran stood beside Davlon and followed his gaze into the trees.

"Are we close?" He sniffed the air experimentally. "We're close. I can smell those revolting beasts from here." He turned to Davlon. "So how is it that a Centaur is willing to separate himself from his brothers to rescue a Dryad?"

"It's my duty to protect all Narnians," he answered simply.

"Yes, but Centaurs are so mighty and brave, you know? I've never known them to get mixed up with creatures like us."

Davlon didn't answer. He gazed up at the patchwork arrangement of bright leaves and pale sky above them as Tigran drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword.

"It'll be sunset before we get there if we wait any longer," the Centaur commented.

"We'll have the element of surprise," Tigran pointed out.

"We'll march to the fort and conceal ourselves before they have a chance to spot us. We'll wait for nightfall and then launch our attack," Davlon compromised.

"That sounds good. Shall I rally the troops?"

He was gone before Davlon had a chance to reply.

* * *

The next time Zia woke up, darkness had fallen. How she could tell, she wasn't sure; there were no windows in or anywhere around the cell. When she'd slept under the stars at Western Wood, she'd always noticed how still everything became after nightfall. Still, but not quiet. Everything, even the trees, waited peacefully and calmly for the night chorus to begin, then listened attentively until the night blended into dawn and the forest began to wake again. Here there was no night chorus, only a lonely kind of stillness that seeped through the walls and into Zia's bones, chilling them.

"Zia?"

She'd forgotten she had company. Groggily, she pushed herself up off the floor and leaned back against the wall. She gazed up at the black ceiling as she waited for the feeling to return to her fingers and toes.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked of her cellmate.

"A few hours," Pelerine answered.

"Did the Minotaur come back?"

There was a pause. "Yes."

"What happened?"

"He had a few… errands for me," was all she offered in reply.

"What, so you're a servant here now?"

"Yes. Well, more of a… slave," she admitted quietly.

"What? I thought you were on their side."

"Can you imagine that would matter to them?" she snapped.

Zia dragged herself a few inches towards where she thought Pelerine's voice was coming from. "Pelerine… what deal did you strike with those creatures? Tell me how you ended up here. Please."

Pelerine scoffed weakly. "I really don't think you want to know."

"I do," Zia insisted. "Maybe I can help you get out of here. Was Edmund part of the bargain?"

Zia still couldn't see her, but the Nymph was close enough now for Zia to feel her nod. "They offered me Edmund… in exchange for information."

Zia recoiled. She didn't like the dark edge that Pelerine's voice had taken on. But it was too late to go back now. "Information on what?"

Pelerine took a slow breath that echoed off the stone walls. She hesitated, deciding whether she really wanted to reveal the dark secret that would see her shunned from her kind forever. But it wasn't like Zia would tell anyone – either one or both of them was doomed to rot away in this hellhole, she knew it.

"They wanted to know how to kill Dryads."

Zia's hand flew to her mouth as she reeled back. "_What_?"

"I knew I shouldn't have told them but I was blind to everything except the possibility of keeping Edmund." As if that feeble explanation would soften the blow.

Zia tried to speak but choked on the words. Nina was dead because of Pelerine. How could she have thought that Edmund was worth the life of Zia's beloved sister, not to mention the entire clan?

"The first moment I saw Edmund, I felt something. Something inside me changed. I guess I became addicted to the way I felt when I was around him," Pelerine sounded close to tears. "I could barely think of anything else. I would have given anything to stay with him."

"Nina died because of you. You may as well have murdered her."

"I was tricked! Nina was always kind to me, how could I have meant to kill her?"

"It doesn't matter whether you meant it or not." Zia's voice had become a low growl. "Her death is on your conscience."

"Look at me!" Pelerine cried. "I've been locked up in a cell for years! I'm forced to work for those brutes whilst they laugh and jeer at the poor, gullible little Nymph who was naïve enough to think she could ever get what she wanted!"

"You don't deserve pity."

Suddenly, a great commotion broke out outside the door to the dungeons. They both jerked their heads up, listening. The unmistakeable scrape and clang of metal on metal drifted down the steps. She lurched to her feet, steadying herself by gripping the bars of the cell. The metal was cold against her skin but she paid it no heed.

"Edmund, in here!" she called. "I'm in here!"

The tumult outside went quiet. Then a loud jangling preceded a _bang_ as the door was flung open. "Zia?" a bewildered voice called.

"Davlon? Is that you?"

"Thank Aslan!" Davlon trotted down the steps, holding a torch in his left hand. "Hold on, Milady, we're getting you out." As if on cue, a fair-haired boy Zia had never seen before appeared at Davlon's side. A bunch of keys dangled from his fingers.

"Zia, I presume?" he inquired politely as he searched for the correct one. "I'm Tigran. I'm a relative of Nina's. I'm sure she has mentioned me before?"

Zia shook her head. "Could we save the introductions for _after_ we've escaped from this place?"

With a click, the door swung open and Zia threw herself unthinkingly into Davlon's arms. "I _am_ glad to see you!" she cried, hugging his broad waist as best she could.

"And I you," the Centaur replied with a smile. "But we really must be going."

"Hold on, there's someone else!" Tigran called. He offered his hand to Pelerine. By the light of Davlon's torch, Zia could now see the full extent of the Nymph's deteriorating condition and the defensive position she had assumed in the far corner of the cell. She managed to stand with Tigran's support but barely looked fit enough to walk.

"Do you think you could give her a hand?" he asked Davlon. Zia turned away as Tigran helped Pelerine onto Davlon's back. She peered through the dungeon door in search of Edmund but was greeted only by the still bodies of the guards.

"Where's Edmund?"

"He's not here, Milady," Davlon replied, confused. "To the extent of my knowledge he remains at Cair Paravel." Zia's heart sank right down into her toes.

Footsteps stampeded somewhere nearby and Tigran drew his sword. "Right," he said a wicked glint in his eyes, "Let's get out of here."


	17. Free

**Free**

Susan breathed a sigh of relief. Cair Paravel faded into just another dark shadow in the night and the forest welcomed them like an old friend, swallowing them from sight of the alert sentries patrolling the battlements. Susan rode a few feet ahead of the others, guiding her mount carefully through the network of trees, a flaming torch in her hand and a full quiver of arrows on her back. She had found and memorised the location of the beasts' hideout using the numerous maps in Peter's study and the various creatures that had turned up at Cair Paravel to report sightings of them. The fortress lay a few miles east of the Great River and about half a day's ride south of the border between Narnia and the Wild Lands of the North. It would take at least a day for them to reach it from the Cair.

Susan wasn't taking any chances with the dangers of their mission. Until now she had been too preoccupied with helping Edmund escape from the castle without being caught to think over the odds of them actually succeeding with what they planned to do. Now that she thought about it, the chance seemed dauntingly slim.

In the end, their escape from Cair Paravel had all been down to Lucy and Ivy. There was a secret door near the hospital wing that none of the Pevensies had known about. Luckily Ivy was only too happy to help them use it. If it had been Alexandra they would have received a flat refusal and Peter would probably have been notified of their plans.

Behind Susan, Edmund and Lucy rode side by side. "Are you afraid, Ed?" Lucy asked in a hushed voice.

He did his best to smile convincingly. "Of course not. Don't worry Lu. Susan knows what she's doing. I daresay she's come up with a complete plan of action without either of us knowing."

Despite his bravado, doubts were starting to rake back his confidence. What were they thinking, attempting to break into a fortress in the dead of night with only the three of them? Plus they had no idea where in the fortress Zia was being held, or even if she was still alive…

No, he mustn't think like that. Of course she was alive. Even if they didn't manage to rescue her – which they _would_ – at least they would have tried. It had almost driven Edmund mad to think about her waiting all alone amongst those godforsaken creatures for a rescue that would never come. Even if Peter locked him in his room for the rest of his life afterwards, at least he hadn't sat back and done nothing.

He nudged Philip with his heels – the Horse wasn't too pleased about being woken up in the middle of the night. Edmund had offered to take a non-Talking horse instead to let him sleep, but Philip had insisted that he was already awake. He trotted forward until they were level with Susan's horse. Her keen blue eyes searched the shadows, following some path that Edmund couldn't see.

"Ed?"

"Yes, Su?"

"Do you really think we can do this?" Her voice was riddled with uncertainty. "I just don't think we've thought this through at all. We should gather a rescue party -"

"And risk Peter sending his own search party after us before we rescue Zia? C'mon, Su, I think Peter would notice if some of his soldiers suddenly went missing."

"We could at least get some of the forest creatures to come with us. We would stand more of a chance against the guards at the fort."

"I don't want to risk any more Narnian lives tonight," Edmund replied patiently. "Zia and Breejit are already in danger. I think it's best that we leave the creatures to their beds."

Susan shook her head slightly. The amount her brother was prepared to put at stake for one Dryad was almost frightening. However Susan still had a logical head on her shoulders and she knew they simply couldn't do it alone.

"It's this way," she said, halting her dark mare and gesturing to their left with her torch. Trusting her judgement completely, Edmund obediently turned Philip and Lucy followed without question. Susan didn't usually act on a whim, but she'd make an exception for a whim that would save them all from her brother's insanity.

* * *

Tigran led the way through the fort, cutting down monsters and whooping in delight the entire way. Zia couldn't understand the enormous joy he seemed to find in battle but he was an unstoppable force. He cleared their path of the beasts that charged towards them in ones and twos, hoping to prevent their escape. Davlon swished his own sword from side to side, taking down the bravest brutes that managed to get past Tigran's exhilarated charge. He did his best not to jostle Pelerine; the Nymph's hold on his waist was far too delicate for his liking.

It suddenly dawned on Zia that they were forgetting something very important. She skidded to a halt just as Tigran drove his sword deep into the belly of a harpy.

"Wait!" Zia cried. The corridor in which they found themselves was now empty. Tigran yanked his sword from the harpy's body and grimaced at the dark sludge coating the blade. "Where's Breejit?" She half-turned in Pelerine's direction but didn't meet the Nymph's dull eyes. "Well? Where is he?"

"I heard one of them mention something about – about torturing him for information," Pelerine said through gritted teeth. "If we're lucky they might still be holding him in the chamber."

"What are you waiting for? Show us where it is!"

None of them had a chance to move before a thunderous echo preceded a swarm of enemies. Zia, vulnerable and useless without her bow, dashed to a small alcove. She hid in the shadows, utterly helpless.

Davlon and Tigran were heavily outnumbered. They were slowly being forced further and further back the way they had come. Pelerine appeared to be barely conscious. With a jolt, Zia realised they had greatly overestimated Pelerine's ability to cope with stress after being kept in such a small, silent place for so long. The Nymph's limp form was becoming a hindrance to Davlon; he couldn't keep her astride him and defend them both at the same time. If help didn't arrive soon they were all as good as dead.

An enormous, shaggy, humanoid warthog with devilish yellow tusks and tiny beetle-like eyes raised its wicked double-edged sword as Tigran stumbled backwards, reeling from a blow to the shoulder. The warthog let out a bellow of triumph and Zia hid her face in her hands, waiting for a yell of agony or maybe just a sickening crunch as the weapon chopped into the bold Dryad warrior. But none of it came.

Instead, the sound of frantic running caused everyone to stop what they were doing and look around in confusion. That moment of stillness was all it took for Tigran to scramble up and deliver a fatal strike to the warthog before it had time to recover its wits. The approaching rabble was finally explained as a horde of familiar faces rounded a corner and leaped upon the enemy. Zia could have wept for joy; her beloved Dryads were here and they were still holding strong, fighting as though they had emerged into spring after a winter of peaceful slumber. They unleashed a torrent of arrows and cut and hacked with their swords, joining Tigran in a fierce but joyous war song that was made solely of whoops and shouts mixed with the screams of the dying.

As the last of the guards twitched its last twitch amongst a horrific mess of fur and blood the Dryads checked each other for injuries and congratulated each other on a spectacular victory. Tigran wiped his sword on a nearby heap of fur and slid it carefully back into the scabbard at his waist. Zia straightened from her crouch and made her way gingerly around the bodies to join her people. A stronghold of embraces surrounded her and cheery voices filled the chilly air. But there was still one thing missing.

"Breejit!" she exclaimed, panic rising in her throat.

"Calm yourself, child," said a familiar voice. Zia looked up and was overjoyed to see the stern but gentle face of her old tutor, Sayalla. "He's perfectly safe."

The crowd parted and Breejit was revealed. The Fox was draped across the arms of another Dryad. His eyes were closed. Zia immediately rushed to gather her friend into her arms and bury her face in his ruff.

"It's alright, Bree," she whispered, shaking slightly with the weight of her relief. "Everything's alright, you're safe now." Breejit didn't open his eyes but Zia swore she felt a rough tongue poke her hand. "We have to get him out of here," she announced.

She turned, searching for Davlon. The Centaur knelt rather awkwardly on the floor away from the rest of the group. A limp, lifeless form lay like a ragdoll propped up in his arms. Zia's heart skipped a beat; they hadn't made it out unscathed after all.

Within moments the entire army was crowded around Davlon. Struggling with Breejit's cumbersome weight, it was some time before Zia made her way to the front of the crowd and could look down upon their wounded comrade. A sharp gasp got stuck halfway up her dry throat; it was Pelerine.

"What happened?" someone to Zia's left demanded. Zia couldn't find the words to speak; her eyes were wide and disbelieving.

"She was too weak to defend herself and I was not quick enough to defend her," was Davlon's reply. The Centaur's smooth voice wavered and shook with his grief.

Sayalla, who had bent to examine the Nymph, now straightened and turned to them all with a grave expression. "I fear there is little we can do. She was already feeble and the wound is very serious." A number of them craned their necks, attempting to glimpse the wound, but Davlon shielded Pelerine with his body as though offering some the protection he had failed to give before. "The best we can do is stay with her until she passes."

It was then that Zia realised Pelerine was still breathing. Her chest still rose and fell although the movements were minute and barely visible. Zia tenderly manoeuvred Breejit into the arms of the woman next to her and knelt beside the Nymph's shoulder. With a shaky hand she reached out to smooth the auburn hair back from Pelerine's forehead. At Zia's touch, Pelerine's lovely eyes flickered open.

"Zia," she gasped, "I'm so sorry…"

Zia shushed her. "Don't try to talk."

Pelerine half-lifted a frail hand, reaching out to her. Zia automatically clasped it in both of hers, forcing back involuntary tears. Why was she crying for this Nymph? It was thanks to her that Nina was dead. So why was the lining of her throat suddenly thick enough to make her choke?

"I never meant for it to be like this… I only wanted…"

"I know," Zia whispered, "You only wanted Edmund."

"Does he hate me for what I did?"

Zia shook her head despairingly and gripped her hand tighter. "Of course not he - he always speaks fondly of you. He wouldn't want you to worry."

A kind of peaceful smile graced Pelerine's haggard features. Zia felt her hand go slack and a little sigh passed between her pale lips. "I can feel it coming, Zia. It feels nice, not at all like I imagined."

Pelerine seemed to have forgotten the other Dryads standing like a protective wall around them. "Can we call a truce?" she asked.

Zia had to fight the urge to turn away from her gaze; she didn't want to watch the light leave Pelerine's eyes. "Of course."

"I know you and Edmund will be happy together. I can see how much you care about him – your eyes betray all your secrets." She tried to laugh but it came out as a pathetic little cough.

Words had failed Zia completely. She looked desperately up at her clan and her eyes locked with Sayalla's. The sturdy woman crouched beside Zia and gently stroked Pelerine's hair, comforting her as she slipped away.

"Sleep now," she murmured. Her voice remained as steady and strong as always.

Pelerine's eyes fluttered closed.

A tear rolled down Zia's cheek and she harshly wiped it away before anyone noticed.

"We've got to get out of here," she said.

"What about Pelerine?" Davlon still cradled the Nymph close to his body like a fragile doll. The brown eyes that met Zia's were more vulnerable than she had ever seen them.

"We'll take her with us. Give her a funeral when we get back home, but we've got to go now." Zia sniffled as she stood up and turned away from Pelerine's lifeless body. She couldn't bear to look at her anymore. "Come on, we don't want to be anywhere near here when that Minotaur finds out we've gone."

Tigran trotted to her side, leading the way without a word. The others followed in their wake. Their journey out of the fortress went mercifully uninterrupted. Silent prayers of thanks were said to Aslan as they made their way out of that awful place as quickly as they possibly could.

Up on the ramparts, the Minotaur watched the little army of Dryads and the Centaur hurry away into the darkness. Keeping that red-haired girl prisoner was becoming a chore anyway; it had been fun until the fight had left her and she'd become drearily complacent. And that little one – the male soldier – well, he was something else entirely. The General had been hoping he'd live – he could be made very useful in the future. For now, the General had displaced new orders and he – the General's most loyal and trusted Commander – would lay his life on the line to ensure that those pesky humans would pay for his queen's defeat.

With that, the Minotaur followed the Dryad girl and her rescuers with such a quiet swiftness that one would think his footsteps were merely the wind sighing through the trees.


	18. Back To Square One

**Back To Square One**

By the time realisation dawned on Edmund there was no turning back. Susan continued to lead him and Lucy determinedly towards the Grove, eyes fixed on the path ahead and mouth set in a firm line.

"You'd better have a good reason for this," he muttered to his older sister. There was no time to lose and he wasn't prepared to deal with loss of lives tonight. He knew there would be no arguing with the Gentle Queen so he followed her horse in a pouty silence.

A faint orange light had appeared in front of them; some sort of small fire was burning. As they drew closer Edmund began to hear voices. They were soft, musical voices, soft as a summer breeze and yet as wild as the whistle of wind across a hilltop. Dryads.

The forest Spirits seemed to be highly agitated about something. Susan halted her mare far enough away from the circle of light cast by the fire so that they could watch unnoticed in the shadows. A group of about twenty were crouched in a circle to the right of the fire, though they remained a good distance away from it. A selection of branches of a similar size had been arranged neatly side-by-side on the ground and the workers seemed to be weaving vines in and out of the gaps between them as though they were making a wicker basket. The structure was long and wide enough for a human – or a Dryad – to lie on with a little room to spare.

Towards the far left of the small clearing, another group of five or six Dryads were huddled close together. They seemed to be discussing something with great fervour. Something lay at their feet, although their position prevented Edmund and the girls from glimpsing more than a dark, lumpy shadow from where they stood.

Closest to the fire stood Davlon and a Dryad woman that Edmund had never seen before, but from her posture and the respectful inclination of Davlon's head he guessed she must be the new Empress. She was nowhere near as beautiful as Nina but, like all nature Spirits, was far prettier than any of the girls back in England. She and the Centaur were in deep conversation, their eyes switching from one side of the clearing to the other. Something decidedly melancholy hung over them all like a heavy cloud. It made Edmund's skin tingle without him really knowing why. Philip's body shifted beneath him – the Horse could sense it too.

"What do you suppose is going on?" asked Lucy in a rather loud whisper.

Susan glanced around nervously, afraid someone had heard them. "I don't know but I'm not sure I like it," she said in a barely-audible voice.

"Are we just going to stand here all night?" Edmund demanded. He urged Philip forwards and, before either of the girls could stop him, entered the circle of firelight. The activity around him immediately ground to halt and every pair of eyes turned in his direction.

Davlon was the first to speak. "King Edmund?"

Edmund nodded at the Centaur distractedly. "Good to see you." He was hyper-aware of the Empress' fierce glare and a part of his mind began to wonder what it was he'd done to offend her. "I don't believe we've met," he said to her coolly.

"I know who you are," the Dryad woman replied. Her tone was none too friendly.

Edmund raised his eyebrows. "May I have the… _pleasure_ of knowing your name, Lady?" The politeness was obviously forced.

"Maia," she answered shortly.

"I presume you know what I'm here for, Lady Maia?" Her eyes narrowed further; Edmund took it as an affirmative. "If you would be so kind, then…" He gestured with his arm, indicating the Grove as a whole.

"I'm afraid that's out of the question." Shock knocked the words out of Edmund; he could only blink in response. Davlon took a step forward and started to speak but was silenced by Maia. "From what I've learned about you and Zia, Sire, she does not wish to see you."

"You're mistaken," Edmund growled.

"Zia is under my protection – it is up to me to keep her safe and if that means keeping her away from you and your siblings then I shall do just that."

"Is that any way to address your king?" Edmund exclaimed.

"Sire…" Philip murmured. Edmund shushed him; he presently didn't care if he woke up the entire forest.

"If Your Majesty would be so kind, it would be much appreciated if you left immediately," Maia said in a low voice, her eyes flashing in the glow of the dancing flames.

"I'm not going anywhere until I see Zia!"

"Edmund!" Lucy cried from the trees. The young Queen was cold and tired and wished for nothing more than to curl up in her bed back at Cair Paravel. The dark expression on her brother's face caused her stomach to turn and her horse scraped at the ground uneasily with its front hoof.

"Quiet, Lu." Edmund addressed his sister softly but the gentleness was forced. The Just King turned back to the Dryad Empress, whose demeanour had not altered. Her stance remained robust and stubborn and her dark eyes bore fearlessly into Edmund's across the clearing.

"I shall ask you one more time; I request an audience with Zia."

"I forbid it," Maia returned.

"You have no right!"

"I have a right to protect my clan! I'm sure you of all people would understand that, my _Lord_."

"Stop it!" Susan and Lucy shouted.

Suddenly the clearing erupted into a raucous of indignant yells as the Dryads leapt to their Empress' defence and Susan and Lucy moved their horses to flank Edmund. The argument between Edmund and Maia was all but drowned out and very soon a number of sleepy forest creatures had gathered and grumpily requested to be told what all the fuss was about. They saw the three monarchs and grew even more confused; they began muttering amongst themselves and their noise only added to the thunderous clashing of voices.

"Enough!"

This last commanding yell finally threw everyone into silence. Zia stood beside Davlon; she had changed out of the dress Lucy had picked out for her back at the Cair, which had been torn and filthy and not fit to be seen, and kicked off the beige slippers to feel the earth under her feet. The din had disturbed her whilst tending to Breejit and she had stood watching the chaos in utter disbelief.

"You're all behaving like children!" This was said with a meaningful glance at the three Pevensies. "Edmund, Lucy, Susan, you should all know better. With all due respect, my Lady, so should you. No one within a mile will have slept through that noise and it's extremely important that Breejit rests as much as possible – he's been through a very traumatic time, he needs prayers right now, not more stress. Now, if you'd all be so kind, I'd like to get back to my work in peace and quiet."

"Zia, wait!" Edmund called as she started to walk away.

The ground shifted unsteadily beneath Zia's feet as she turned to gaze at the King. His pale skin bore an orange tint from the firelight but the expression on his face was as clear as day. Her stomach did nervous little flip-flops and her throat suddenly went dry. Where had he been when she needed him most? He could go on about protecting her and keeping her safe forever but he had failed to keep his word when carrying it out had been so crucial. She couldn't really blame Maia for wanting him gone; part of her felt the same way.

Yet, his eyes were so sad, so honest, that Zia doubted her own thoughts almost as soon as they passed through her mind. She found herself once again hit with the urge to throw herself into his warm, strong embrace and cling to his solid body to stop her body tearing apart at the seams. There was so much he needed to know – especially about Pelerine. But something held her back.

"I have to get back to Breejit," she said quietly and hurried away.

"I won't give up on you, Zia!" Edmund called after her, not caring about the thirty pairs of eyes still fixed on him. "Don't think for a moment this is farewell!"

* * *

A few days later, Breejit was on the road to recovery. Zia knelt in her near-permanent position by his side where he lay on a soft bed of leaves and earth. His large brown eyes were fully open now and he could raise his head to lap up the herbal medicine Zia prepared for him on the hour, every hour. He still preferred not to talk and slept most of the time but his progress put Zia in a good mood. There was a smile on her face as someone approached her from behind.

"Zia?" Zia turned to look at the visitor, a Dryad she had never seen before. She was a head taller than Zia with long earthy-brown hair and, unlike the Dryads Zia knew, the stranger's skin was tinted green. "My name is Ivy," said the woman, "I was sent here from Cair Paravel – I work in the hospital alongside Lady Alexandra, who I'm told you already know?"

"Oh, yes! I hope she is well?"

"Yes, very well. She just returned from Archenland and went straight back to work, wouldn't even hear of resting first. In fact, she said _I _was the one who should be resting." Ivy chuckled. "Do you mind if I talk to you in private?"

Zia glanced down at the Fox. His eyes were heavy and he appeared to be half-asleep. "The medicine contains a sleeping draught," she said. "He won't be aware of us at all in a few minutes."

Ivy nodded. "I have a message for you from His Majesty the King."

"Which one?" Zia asked, already knowing the answer.

Just then they were interrupted by the rustling of trees and the twins, Daliah and Delilah, toddled rather unsteadily over to plop down beside their furry friend. Visits from them were very common and they knew to keep very quiet when Breejit was sleeping.

Ivy's eyes lit up when she saw the two girls. "Who are these lovely young ladies?"

Zia looked from Ivy to the twins. The expression on Ivy's face was one of pure delight; it was as though she had never seen children before, or was a mother looking upon her new-born baby for the very first time.

"This is Daliah and Delilah," Zia introduced them, indicating each of the twins in turn. The girls gazed at Ivy with their large eyes. "They're Bree's biggest fans."

Daliah pressed a pudgy finger to her lips. "Ssshhh! Bree seepin'."

Zia nodded and put her own finger against her mouth. She gestured to Ivy and stood up. She led Ivy a little way into the forest, making sure she could still see the twins watching over Breejit between the tree trunks. "What's the message?"

Ivy tore her eyes away from Daliah and Delilah. "King Edmund requests that you will meet him at the beach two nights from tonight," she said. "He said you'd know the place he's talking about."

Zia's stomach squirmed uncomfortably. "I can't leave Breejit," she mumbled feebly.

Ivy glanced over Zia's shoulder. "Looks like he's in perfectly good hands," she said smiling. "Of course, I shall stay here and keep watch over the girls."

Part of Zia would have been happy to walk to Cair Paravel right away to see Edmund but the memory of the distress when he hadn't come to save her kept that urge back. There had to be some explanation as to why he didn't show up when she'd been in that dungeon. From everything he'd told her that evening on the beach and in the brief moments they had spent alone together, it seemed he would have had a rescue party assembled within ten minutes of finding out she'd gone missing. There was nothing she wanted more than to believe that.

Taking a deep breath to dispel the doubts from her mind, Zia nodded. As Ivy went back to fuss over Daliah and Delilah, Zia stayed where she was and prayed to Aslan that Edmund wouldn't give her reason to regret her decision.

* * *

Alexandra knew she was going to be in trouble with Edmund. He had that look on his face - the look that would often be seen on his father's face when someone was going to get a smack for being naughty. She had been anticipating this telling off ever since she had arrived back from her trip in Archenland. He was going to be angry with her, she knew that. There was no way she was going to get away with this one.

With a slow, deep breath she knocked and entered through the door to Edmund's private chambers. His room was as grand and furnished as Peter's with a golden and scarlet king-sized bed. His wooden desk was unusually tidy where it stood in the corner by his fireplace and bookshelf. Edmund was standing tense by his balcony window looking out towards the sea.

Alexandra gulped and cleared her throat. "You called for me?" she said tentatively.

"Sit."

She flinched at the harshness in his voice. Yes, she was definitely in trouble. She closed the door quietly behind her and sat down at Edmund's desk. Edmund remained facing the sea, his hands clasped behind him in a formal and almost calm gesture. Alexandra wasn't fooled – she could feel the tension rolling off him from where she sat apprehensively in her seat, fidgeting with her hands and occasionally drumming her fingers against her thigh.

After what felt like an eternity Edmund let out a sigh, turning around and looking at his friend with a hardened expression. "Why?" Alexandra hesitantly looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Why did you try to stop me from rescuing Zia? You know how I feel about her, so why?"

"I was following what Peter told me to do," she replied in a quiet voice.

"You could have said no," Alexandra began to shake her head in protest but Edmund interrupted her. "No, don't give me that. Just because Peter is High King and always has the final say doesn't mean he's always right. I thought we were family Alex."

"We are -"

"Then why?" Edmund seethed. He glared at her across the room, his brown eyes full of a mixture of anger, confusion and hurt. Alexandra took a deep breath and stood up from her perch. She was just going to have to tell him the truth.

"You weren't thinking with your head," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the King's pale face, which was flushed pink with his rising temper. "If you had just gone gallivanting off to rescue her without thinking it through first then you could have died."

"I wouldn't have died. I'm not that stupid."

"What did you think we were going to do?" Alexandra exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "You looked so determined about it I thought you were going to elope with her or something."

"And what if I did?" Edmund's voice trembled in a barely controlled fury. Alexandra came to a screeching halt and stared at him in shock.

"I... what... Excuse me?" Alexandra spluttered. Edmund turned his back on her and stared out of the window.

"Alex, you know I l-"

"Don't you dare, Edmund Pevensie," Alexandra said through gritted teeth, "Don't you _dare_ say the l-word! You barely know anything about her!" Her own fury rose began to leak out of her and mingle with Edmund's, causing the air between them to spark and crackle.

"I know enough," he replied stubbornly. Alexandra wanted to grab his shoulders and scream at him – either that or just slap some sense into him outright.

"Oh, stop being so foolish! You're _King_, for Aslan's sake. You can't just run away with her, you have commitments! She has a family, _you _have a family! You belong here with them! With _us_, Edmund!"

"If I can't be with Zia then I will run away with her."

"No!" Alexandra reached forward and turned her friend forcefully around to face her. Edmund looked away towards a particular area above his bed. "Please Edmund, listen to yourself. If you even think about eloping with Zia you will rip this family apart." The physician's voice trembled and her eyes stung with the threat of fresh tears. "What is this really about Edmund? Do you think that we won't support you? Do you think that we don't know how you feel about Zia?"

Edmund turned his head to look at Alex with a frown. There was something in her voice - something he could've sworn sounded like... No, it couldn't be. He would know.

"All we're asking is for you to think through what you're doing. We don't want to see you hurt again. Do you know how much we care about you?"

"Of course I do." Edmund rolled his eyes.

"Do you? Do you really realise how much you mean to us? How much you mean to _me_?" Alex could feel the tears threatening to fall as she desperately tried to make him understand.

"What are you talking about? We're family, I know that. How can I not understand how much I mean to you all?" Edmund groaned in frustration. Alex stepped away from him and slowly started to edge back towards the door. Edmund's forehead creased with concern. "Alex? What's wrong?"

Alex shook her head, still edging back. "I knew it..."

"What is it, Alex?" Edmund asked worriedly. Did he say something wrong?

_Of course he wouldn't understand_. Alexandra had her hand on the door handle and her back pressed against the wood, staring at Edmund with huge, tear-filled eyes.

"Alex..? What did I say wrong?" Edmund asked, alarmed at the destroyed expression on his best friend's face. He reached out to her but she slapped him away.

Without looking back, Alexandra ran from the room, tears streaming down her cheeks and feeling like a fool, leaving Edmund behind alone and confused, still wondering what he'd done wrong.


	19. Starting Over

**Starting Over**

Time passed excruciatingly slowly over the next two days. Breejit continued to recover from his ordeal and Zia remained by his side almost every minute of every day, talking to him and mixing medicines and sleeping draughts to help him feel better, but when the Fox was sleeping peacefully Zia was alone with her thoughts. Those thoughts were mainly centred on one person and the hours she had to wait before seeing him again.

She still didn't know if she wanted to see him at all; after days of struggling to decide between Cair Paravel and the Grove she was finally where she'd decided she wanted to be, but now that wasn't enough. The peaceful, methodical life of the Dryads made her impatient. She longed to feel the energy that surged through her body when she was with Edmund and the butterflies in her stomach when he looked at her. Maia tried to be discrete about showing her opinions on Zia's relationship with the Just King – and Peter, Susan, Lucy and Alex – but the calculating look in her dark eyes was not lost on Zia. She knew the Empress would only do her best to protect her but would eventually give up if all Zia did was make it difficult for her. Socialising with the Kings and Queens definitely qualified as making it difficult, whereas _living_ with them… That was right at the top of Maia's black list.

In short, Zia was right back in the middle of her previous predicament and all the thinking gave her a headache. Whether meeting with Edmund would improve or worsen her situation was difficult to tell but she would soon find out.

Ivy was true to her word; she returned to the Grove on the night that Zia was due to meet Edmund, a wide smile already in place for the twins and a large rectangular box in both hands. The girls greeted her with enthusiastic shrieks and hugged her knees. When it was time for Zia to get ready, Ivy opened the box to reveal an elegant dress she had borrowed from the castle and worked the knots out of Zia's hair with one of Susan's old combs. When that was done, Ivy shooed Zia on her way and took Daliah and Delilah with her to strike up a conversation with Maia, allowing Zia to make her escape.

The plan went as smoothly as it could have done and before she knew it Zia found herself standing at the spot where earth merged into sand, gazing out to sea and admiring the orange sunset. There was no sign of Edmund, but he was coming, Ivy had said so. She wasn't worried – if he didn't turn up then her dilemma would be made a whole lot simpler.

She wandered down to where the white spray lapped at the shore and stood amongst the waves. A breeze blew straight at her and she raised her arms, letting the air current swirl around her. Her hair whipped back from her face and her clothes rippled against her skin. It was a glorious feeling – being cooped up indoors for so long had made her forget how wonderful nature was. She laughed out loud and the wind snatched up the sound and carried it all across Narnia.

Behind her, someone cleared their throat. Zia whirled around, groping behind her for her bow. Upon finding the weapon absent from her back and the startled brown eyes of Edmund the Just staring at her, she dropped her hand and let out a breath. "For Aslan's sake Edmund, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I'm sorry, I…" his sentence trailed off as his eyes drank in her appearance. "I like your dress."

"I think it's actually Susan's," Zia admitted. "Ivy brought it for me. She said I needed to dress like a lady if I was to be in the company of a king."

Edmund smiled. "I'm sure Susan won't miss it. Ivy made a good choice. It suits you."

Zia blushed again and internally kicked herself.

"I'm sorry that we had to meet in secret," Edmund continued. "It seems Lady Maia and I got off on the wrong foot."

Zia snorted. "You can say that again." Another reason not to want him around – Maia forbade it. But Maia wasn't Nina and Zia's loyalties still lay with her deceased sister. Then again, Nina hadn't been too fond of him either… She realised Edmund had stopped speaking. She looked up at him.

"She's angry that I was too late to rescue you."

Zia nodded. "I'm still waiting for an explanation, by the way."

After they had both seated themselves on the sand, Edmund took a deep breath and presented his story as best he could. He kept as close to the truth as possible and Zia listened without interruption. When his tale was done, Zia leaned back on her hands and gazed upwards. Blue sky melted into orange and smudges of purple cloud drifted listlessly towards the flaring sun. The evening was true to summer; a pleasant combination of warm temperature and a light, cool breeze that lightly rustled the trees at the edge of the forest.

Without thinking, Edmund reached up to the breast pocket of his tunic. His fingers lightly caressed the solid lump beneath the fabric before he patted the pocket gently and returned his eyes to Zia. He was a little startled to find her eyes already on him - more specifically, on his pocket. She didn't need to speak for him to hear her question. He slowly drew the object out of his tunic. The sun's dying rays caused it to glitter so that it was almost blinding to look at. The gold pendant sat weightily in Edmund's palm and Zia's eyes widened as she looked at it.

"You kept it?" she murmured.

"Of course," he replied. "It was supposed to be a gift for you, after all."

Memories of the events that had followed Edmund presenting the pendant to her caused Zia to shudder before she shoved them away. Edmund gazed steadily up at her from underneath his long, spidery lashes and Zia's heartbeat quickened. She reached out with a slightly shaky hand to delicately stroke the gold leaves. They were cool to the touch and the detail engraved in them created a texture that was satisfying to run her fingers over.

"It's fit for a princess," she whispered. "I'm not a princess."

The brown in Edmund's eyes seemed to melt. His gaze became full of something fiercely and deeply emotional that Zia couldn't place. She was grateful to be sitting down – her legs had suddenly become weaker than sap. "You're more beautiful than any princess I've ever met."

This time both their faces heated up and they looked away from each other in embarrassment. Zia fiddled nervously with her hands in her lap.

"When I first saw this I immediately thought of you," Edmund said quietly, keeping his eyes down on the pendant. "I couldn't get this image out of my head; the image of you throwing your head back with laughter and this pendant sparkling against your skin." Edmund was no good at this romance business; his cheeks were practically on fire. Peter was much better at wooing the ladies of the court than he was - probably because Edmund had never tried. He briefly toyed with the idea of asking Peter for tips on how to deal with females without appearing a fool but dismissed those musings when the image of Peter's gleeful grin entered his mind.

Smiling softly, Zia held out her hand. Edmund shook his head and stood up. She followed him with her eyes as he walked behind her and knelt at her back. He carefully brushed the tumble of red hair over her shoulder; his fingers barely brushed the bare skin but even the breath of contact was enough to chase goosebumps down Zia's back. She held very still as he fastened the gold chain around her neck so that the cluster of leaves settled nicely on her breastbone. The weight of the gold was comforting, as though the pendant was part of her.

"Shall we start over?" Edmund whispered. His breath was warm against her cheek, his hands as delicate as birds on her shoulders.

Zia was powerless to resist him gently pulling her back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her waist. They remained like that for hours, watching the sun sink beneath the waves and the moon rise up in its place. Zia forgot all about Maia and the rest of the Dryads; her thoughts were hopelessly scattered and, for once, she didn't scramble to gather them up.

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Susan and Lucy told Peter and Alexandra that it had been past midnight when a sheepish Edmund had attempted to sneak back into the castle after his meeting with Zia. The girls had stayed up to question him upon his return but hadn't managed to prise anything from him except a lopsided grin and a promise to tell them all about it the next morning. But Edmund was absent from the table and the rest of them found out from Mr Tumnus that the young King refused to leave his room, claiming he wasn't hungry and wanted to be left to himself for a while.

Alexandra was left in a disappointed mood as she packed her saddlebags full with food and other necessary items and arranged them on her chosen horse ready for her second long journey in almost as many days. This one wasn't planned until after her confrontation with Edmund but in a way she was grateful to him. He had helped her to put things straight in her mind and now she saw what she had to do.

Her departure was a prolonged and tearful one. Lucy cried the most but Alexandra caught even the High King wiping at his eyes before he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. Edmund didn't turn up until the last minute and Alexandra was afraid he would let her leave without saying goodbye. She was made to feel silly for doubting him when he appeared at the top of the front steps and nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to descend them and pull her away from Peter. His strong arms were long enough to cross behind her back, surrounding her with his comforting warmth and the familiar smell of his clothes as she clung to him.

"Are you sure you won't change your mind?" he murmured into her hair.

Alex shook her head. "You have to let me do this, Ed. And don't ask me to explain my reasons because you wouldn't understand. Besides, you don't need me to hang around and get in the way of you and Zia."

She pulled back and offered him a watery smile, the best she could manage with her heart aching fit to burst. Edmund did his best to return her smile and hugged her again when his face began to crumple. She only allowed him to hold her for a few seconds more before pulling away. She was immediately yanked into another of Lucy's overwhelming embraces.

"Lu, you're getting my shirt wet," the physician said with a smile, stroking the girl's long hair.

"S-sorry," Lucy hiccupped, scrubbing at her eyes. "You will write to us, won't you?"

"Whenever I get the chance."

Alexandra's eyes were dangerously full of tears. She turned to her horse so no one could see how close she was to crying – especially not Edmund. She swung herself into the saddle and, with one last wave, rode her horse out of the gates of Cair Paravel. Her eyes remained focused in front of her and, although the urge was incredibly powerful, she didn't look back. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. She was leaving her adoptive family. How would she cope on her own? She had never been on her own. The Pevensies had always been there to look after her and make her laugh. But, she reminded herself, the whole of Narnia and the rest of the world inside the wardrobe now lay before her. She just had one more farewell to say before her journey could begin.

"Alex, stop!" She heard the shout behind her and the scattering sound of feet on gravel. Out of nowhere Edmund threw himself in front of Alexandra's horse, causing the animal to rear up and nearly throw her off.

"Whoa! Sshh..." Alex said soothingly as the horse skittered sideways, snorting and flicking its ears nervously. "Edmund, what are you playing at? Were you trying to get yourself trampled on?"

"Where are you going? Why are you leaving?" Edmund demanded, his eyes wide as he stepped forward and touched her knee.

"I told you not to ask about my reasons."

"Alex, you're my best friend! I have a right to know, even if it's only so I can be sure that you're safe!"

"Alright! I'm going travelling. Is that such a crime?" Alexandra huffed defensively, kicking the sides of her steed to get the animal to move. Edmund calmed the horse quickly, stroking the side of his neck.

"The others said you're moving to Archenland. Why?"

"Because I want a fresh place to go -"

"That's poppycock. If you wanted a 'fresh place to go' you wouldn't go to Archenland." Edmund scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Why are you really leaving? Was it because of me? If I did something wrong then I'm sorry but I – I just don't understand."

"It's not you, Edmund. I just want to leave." Alexandra could feel more tears threatening to fall.

"You used to tell me everything. Why can't you trust me now?" he said. His voice was laced with hurt.

"It's too painful, Edmund. I can't even look at you without remembering..." Alex trailed off as the horrid dream she had the night before of Edmund and Zia and the beach came back to her. Alex knew deep down inside that it was going to happen in the future and she just wished she could take Zia's place. She'd give anything to love Edmund like that. She shook her head to banish the thoughts before they became too much. "Look, things change. We grow up and fall in love..."

"This is about Zia and me. I thought you supported us!"

"I do, I just… Oh Edmund, just leave me alone." Tears flowed thick and fast down her cheeks as she kicked her steed and galloped away from Edmund as fast as she possibly could. Suddenly the path on which she steered the horse didn't seem so appealing but she knew that regret would eat her alive if she didn't take it. She would just have to grit her teeth and force the infernal tears back until it was safe to unleash them.

"Alex! What are you doing here? How did you get past Maia?"

Zia's greeting was shocked but she rose from her position on the ground and approached Alexandra's horse as she dismounted.

"Ivy's covering for me but I haven't got long," she explained. "I came to tell you farewell."

Zia's eyes grew large. "What? Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving. I thought that there might be other places besides Narnia that would benefit from my expertise." She chuckled.

Zia tilted her head in confusion. "What about Ed and the others?"

Alexandra felt a sharp pang to her heart as she remembered the events of that afternoon. "I've already spoken to them. They understand what I want and they're happy to let me go" – well, all except for one – "as long as I promise to come back."

"Will you?"

"We'll see," was her only answer. "I have something for you." She lifted one of the bags off her horse's back and carefully pulled out a large and fragile object.

Zia's eyes lit up when she saw her beloved bow. "Oh, thank you!" She took the weapon and cradled it close to her chest.

"Edmund would rather you not have it back – he hates the thought of you going anywhere near a battlefield – but I knew you would miss it too much. Oh, and there's something else."

"What is it?" Zia questioned as Alexandra handed over a small square parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. She shook it and it rattled but offered her no clue about what the contents could be.

"It doesn't matter for now," Alexandra said, steadying Zia's hand when she went to shake it again. "Open it when autumn comes and you'll know its importance. I just need you to do one thing for me - promise me you'll look after Edmund."

Zia's hand automatically reached for her throat to touch the gold pendant. "You have my word." The Dryad stepped forward and put her cool arms around Alexandra. She smelled like earth and her embrace was gentle - nothing like the Pevensies' had been – and this time the physician's shirt remained dry.

"Be safe."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for one thing, please try not to get kidnapped again. And for another – I don't know what you and Edmund are planning with this relationship but if it does come to… you know… I don't want either of you to do anything you'll regret…" Alexandra's cheeks flushed as her words trailed off into a mumble.

"By the Mane, Alex!" Zia exclaimed, turning red.

"Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise."

Relieved, Alexandra let out a breath. "Good. Farewell, Zia. I hope we shall meet again one day."

"As do I," Zia returned as Alex remounted. As she was about to turn away, Zia leapt forward to stop her. "Wait! Alex don't go, wait."

Alexandra halted her horse and turned to Zia. The Dryad looked up at her and she suddenly felt very old. She wished she could turn back to when things were simpler - to when she and the Pevensies were young and feelings and growing up were too distant to interfere with their lives.

A slight frown creased Zia's forehead. "You never did describe the relationship between you and Edmund to me. That's why you're leaving, isn't it? It's not because you think your talents would be useful somewhere else. It's because of Edmund."

Alex dropped her head in shame, discretely wiping a stray tear away. She let out a sigh followed by a humourless laugh. "You're right."

"Why?"

"Edmund and I were never meant to be and I was stupid enough to think that I could change that." Alex's tone was hollow as she stared down at the reins in her hands. She was just his best friend, nothing more.

"You love him don't you?" Zia asked hesitantly.

Alex nodded. "He won't love me back though."

"I'm so sorry if it was my fault. I shouldn't have got between you."

"Don't be silly, I'm glad he's got you. I'd rather he was with someone and guiltless than alone and wondering 'what if'."

"But… that's what you'll be doing."

Alexandra tried to force her mouth into a genuine smile. "I'll find someone... hopefully. I'm travelling to the Lone Islands and I don't know whether I'll come back or not. Don't tell the Pevensies where I am. I've told them I'm going to Archenland."

"Why lie to them? They're your friends and they'll need to know that you're alright."

"I don't want to miss them. I want a fresh start to sort my head out."

"Did you tell Edmund how you feel?"

"No and I don't want him to know. I couldn't bear it if he did. It'll be so much better for the both of us if he never finds out. You've got to promise me you won't ever tell him."

"He'll be so upset if I don't. He values you more than you think. I can see that."

"Well, you'll be there to cheer him up. Make him forget about me completely if you have to. But don't tell him." Bitterness wound its way into her voice as she spoke. This was becoming more and more excruciating by the minute. She needed to leave.

"You will be back won't you?"

"Until I make my mind up, I'll be gone." With some effort, Alexandra managed to smile. "Farewell for now. I'm going to miss everyone. And you of course."

"I'll never forget your kindness," Zia said. "I owe you so much and it's for that reason alone that I will keep the promises I have made to you. I now know you are far, far more than just a Court Physician. I pray that you will one day return to Narnia and we can all live together in peace."

"I will wait for that day with great eagerness," Alexandra replied, turning her horse. "Until then, I bid you farewell."

Cair Paravel's former Court Physician rode away into the trees. She kept her promise to Lucy and wrote them as often as she could, although she never seemed to receive any of the letters they sent in reply. Her letters grew fewer and far between until they ceased altogether. She was not seen in Narnia again for a long, long time.


	20. The Choices We Make

**The Choices We Make**

"You miss Alex, don't you?"

Edmund glanced up, startled out of his reverie by the question. Zia watched him intently from where she sat about two feet away from him, drawing patterns in the sand with her finger. He heaved a sigh. Everyone around him felt the moroseness that had radiated from him ever since Alex left for Archenland three days previously. His brother and sisters tried to think of ways to cheer him up to no avail. Eventually they had sent Ivy to the grove with a message for Zia desperately asking her to talk to him. Zia was the last resort – if he didn't listen to her then all other attempts would be futile.

"She's my best friend, of course I miss her," he replied bitterly. "She didn't even tell me _why_ she left. It felt like watching you leave all over again."

"Don't bring me into this." Edmund's eyes returned to the small stone he held between his fingers. Softly, Zia placed her hand on his knee. "You know how much she cares for you. I'm sure she never meant to leave you feeling like this."

"The Alex I knew would never do this," he muttered sadly.

"Really? Someone as independent and spirited as Alex would never seek adventure by going off on her own?"

"She would never go anywhere without me," he insisted.

She took his hands. "Maybe it's time you let go of the past and move on. You've both grown up and things were never going to stay the same forever."

He looked up at her, tears shining in his eyes. "I just don't understand why she wouldn't explain herself. I would have willingly let her go if I had known _where_ she was going. What if she gets into trouble?"

"You of all people should know that Alex can take care of herself. You saw what a brilliant job she did looking after me. Have faith in her. Besides, she won't be alone. Aslan will watch over her. Perhaps it was his idea for her to leave in the first place."

"I'll still miss her terribly," he murmured.

"Of course you will. Any fool could see how special you are to one another." She held out her arms and Edmund gladly crawled into them. She stroked his hair and hummed a soothing tune, just like his mother used to do when he was small.

"I want you to come back to Cair Paravel."

The words broke the comfortable silence they had been enjoying in the company of one another's arms. They lay together on the sand with Zia's head on Edmund's chest and his arms forming a protective circle around her. The position had seemed strange at first – to Zia anyway. She had never been so close to him before and the proximity was disconcerting but the even rhythm of his chest rising and falling as he breathed soon calmed her down. Edmund's statement had her propping herself up on her elbow to get a better look at him. The hand that reached up to lightly stroke her face almost mimicked the pale shade of the moon.

"Say something," he murmured.

She tore her gaze away from him and instead watched the tide roll lazily in and out. "I have no purpose in that place," she said sadly.

"You don't need a purpose. You would be an honoured guest."

She cracked a smile. "Guests can't loiter around forever, Edmund. Besides my people would not be pleased if I ever went back there."

"Well _I_ won't be pleased if you _don't_ come back." He pouted and received a jab in the ribs for being petulant. "Hey! I'm not the only one who misses having you around. Lucy says she loved talking to you about the forest creatures and such and even Susan misses your company. Plus the castle has been a little lonely since Alex left."

"Mmm." She crossed her arms on his chest and rested her chin on them, gazing thoughtfully towards the forest where most of her people would be sleeping. "It's not that I don't want to go back," she said after a long pause, "I just fear their reactions – Maia's especially – after the other night. I don't want you and the others to be on bad terms with Dryads for the rest of your days."

"I won't be on bad terms with one Dryad, though," he pointed out, combing his fingers through her hair. "And, if I'm honest, she's the only one whose opinion I really value."

"Don't be ridiculous, you have to care about the opinions of _all _your subjects, _King_ Edmund."

"It's the truth." He held up his hands when she shot him a look.

They looked at each other for a moment before Zia suddenly jumped to her feet. Edmund, always one step behind, could only stare after her as she ran through the surf and straight into the water until it was up to her knees. Then he was on his feet too and hurrying to join her. She laughed and splashed at him as soon as he was in range. He retaliated and soon they were both drenched to the skin and neither could stop laughing even though there was a chance someone might hear them.

Edmund lunged forward and grabbed Zia round the waist, hoisting her onto his shoulder in one fluid movement. She shrieked and pounded her fists on his back.

"Put me down this _instant_, Edmund! Do you hear? This _instant_!"

"What sort of king would I be if I didn't obey a lady's wishes?" Edmund said, pulling her off his shoulder and depositing her on her behind in the water. The scowl on her face only made him laugh harder. The scowl disappeared as Zia hopped gracefully onto Edmund's back, digging her heels into his sides like a horse. She made him trot, canter and gallop through the shallows until they were both breathless with laughter. Zia slid down from her perch and Edmund turned to face her with a broad grin that precisely matched her own.

He caught a stray hair and carefully tucked it behind her ear. "Please. I promise not to let Maia or anyone else punish you. Please."

"Ed…" Zia placed her palms flat on his toned stomach, not pushing him away but not allowing him any closer. "Trust me when I say that I want to. But I can't go back there without good reason. It would destroy the relationship I have with my clan. Without them I would have no one left."

"You've always got me," he assured her softly. "I'll protect you from anything."

She laughed quietly. "I rather think _you're_ the one that needs protecting sometimes, even if it's only from yourself." Edmund's eyes lit up as though a bonfire had flared behind them. "What is it?"

"Your purpose," he said, a smile stretching across his face. "You'll be my protector."

Zia laughed. "How can I be when I can't even keep myself safe?"

"We'll protect each other," Edmund said, placing his hands on her shoulders, "You'll never have to leave my side."

That was certainly very tempting but Zia wouldn't admit it out loud. She pursed her lips, pretending to think it over. "I suppose I could…"

"You have great skill in handling a bow," Edmund continued in a rush. "And I could teach you the basics of fighting with a sword and you can come with me on trips and…" He was cut off when Zia put a finger to his lips.

"Okay, King Edmund the Just. I shall be your guardian."

* * *

Goodbyes were spoken without tears on the morning of Zia's departure. The majority of the Dryads that had once been her friends – her sisters – only offered uninterested glances by means of farewell. They could not understand why Zia would give up her kin just to be with a Man. It went against their very nature. Men were interesting and fun to play with when boredom set in but they would soon be dropped in favour of a dance or a race through the trees with a few deer. Yes this Man was a king but that didn't make him any more special than the rest of them.

Only three people gathered to see her off. Breejit was on his feet and looking much healthier after his ordeal but his long face was overcome with a mixture of confusion, sadness and acceptance. He too could not comprehend Zia's reasons behind leaving but he knew that trying to prevent it would be useless and they would only continue to go around in circles. He allowed her to gather his body into her arms but could not bring himself to beg her to stay.

She noticed his lack of emotion and her face fell. "Are you not upset?" she asked.

Breejit sighed quietly. "I am beyond that, Zia. I know that I cannot hope to talk you out of it. So I shall wish you well and be done with it. Be safe."

As the Fox walked away, Davlon stepped forwards. His eyes were also dry and his face no less noble than usual. Another blade skewered Zia's heart as she realised the Centaur had shed more tears for Pelerine's death than for her parting.

"Seren will take you to Cair Paravel, my Lady," he said in his deep, rich voice. "Once again, I bid you farewell."

"Goodbye," she managed to whisper.

Davlon he placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled one long, piercing note. The mare emerged from the trees and trotted to her friend's side. He murmured in her ear and she seemed to nod before moving to Zia's side ready for her to mount.

Maia was the last to come forwards. She swept her dark eyes over Zia and shook her head slightly. "I do not pretend to understand why you have chosen to go through with this," she said in a tone that was less than warm but not as harsh as Zia had expected. "When I became Empress I swore an oath to do everything in my power to protect all of the subjects under my care. Although you have decided not to live with us any longer, that promise still applies to you. I will not abandon you and neither will this clan. A welcome will await you should you ever choose to return."

Looking around at the absence of people coming to say goodbye, Zia seriously doubted that was true. "I would understand if I was no longer welcome here," she murmured. "But I'm grateful to you for keeping your arms open to me. Thank you, my Lady."

The slightest hint of a smile ghosted Maia's lips. "The ties between our people run deeper than the bonds within any family, even that of the Kings and Queens. Although they may not show it, my Dryads would be glad to have you back - as would I. We respect your decision but that does not mean we approve of it." The stern voice of the Empress was back as quickly as it had disappeared. "Do not expect us to mourn your departure or eagerly await your homecoming. If you return, we will take you in again. If you do not, our lives will carry on as normal. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"Good. Now, you had better be on your way. Take care of yourself, child."

Maia turned and followed Davlon and Breejit's path into the trees, leaving Zia alone with Seren. The mare nosed at a cluster of ferns, seemingly unconcerned with how long Zia spent gathering the courage necessary to climb onto her back and ride away from her family for good.

"No one wants me here; I have no reason to stay," she said out loud. Seren showed no sign of having heard her. "At least there are people who want me at Cair Paravel. I'd much rather be there than a place where no one cares about me." This last was said a little louder and directed towards the spot where Breejit, Davlon and Maia had all vanished into the trees.

Turning to the horse - who had raised her head to see what the fuss was about - Zia grabbed a fistful of Seren's mane and swung herself onto the warm, broad back. The horse whinnied a little in surprise at the vigour with which Zia whirled her around and flattened her ears against her head. Zia took no notice. With a final irate glare at the trees she used to call home, Zia hug her heels into Seren's flanks and left the Grove behind for the final time.

After a mile or so of hard galloping Zia's temper began to ease and she slowed Seren to a walk. The horse gratefully stretched her neck until her muzzle almost brushed the floor. Her damp flanks heaved beneath Zia's legs. Feeling guilty for her rough treatment of the mare, Zia let Seren tear up mouthfuls of grass as she walked and stroked her pretty neck. She was travelling light, with only her bow and quiver on her back and the package Alexandra had given her in a little pouch tied around her waist. She lifted the curious parcel out, inspecting it from every angle.

_Open it when autumn comes_, the physician had said. It wasn't much of a clue. She lifted a hand to touch the pendant, warm and reassuring against her skin.

The ride to the Cair was lonely by herself and more than once she felt tempted to turn around. She longed to see Edmund's chocolate-brown eyes again; the safety of his arms was as good as – if not better than – the safety she felt whilst surrounded by her sisters at the Grove. She didn't need them to protect her, she had him.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long."

Edmund had somehow managed to sneak up on her. Philip was now walking alongside Seren close enough for their riders' knees to brush. Seren greeted the chestnut Horse with a pleased snort as Edmund offered Zia a dazzling smile.

"You were waiting for me?"

Edmund shrugged one shoulder. "I guess I was. Don't tell Peter and Susan – they think I've gone out to patrol the woods."

"So how will you explain my sudden appearance?"

He shrugged again. "I'll think of something. Are you alright? You look upset."

Zia stared down at Seren's mane. "Let's just say I didn't receive much of a send-off."

"You'll receive a great welcome when we get back to the Cair," Edmund assured her. "You can even have your room back. Lucy has built up quite a collection of dresses for you."

"Careful, people might start to think you were actually excited about my coming back," she teased.

Edmund smiled. "I've arranged for you to be given a few lessons in swordsmanship, as promised."

Her eyes widened – she still didn't hold a high opinion of swords. "Must you?"

He nodded fervently. "You need to be prepared for any situation. There's no need to be frightened, I'm a good teacher."

* * *

They began training the very next day. Edmund made her rise at an ungodly hour, wash and dress in an old jerkin of Lucy's and they headed down to the training ring where Edmund had already laid out the weapons. He chose a fairly light sword that would be easy on her slight frame and faced her across the sand. He showed her various lunges, swings and blocks, commanding her to practise them over and over until her arms ached and she was prepared to aim the sword at his head. It was just like her archery training with Sayalla, only there were moments when Zia was completely mesmerised with the way Edmund moved. The way he handled his sword was effortless. Each swing flowed into the next like the moves of an intricate dance.

She would have been happy to spend all their training time staring at him but he refused to stand still for more than a minute. He would suddenly yell "Parry!" and bring his sword down towards her head. She would snap out of her daydreaming just in time to bring her blade up to meet his. If he hadn't deliberately altered his swings so that the blade never touched her, she would have lost all four of her limbs several times over in the first few lessons alone.

As time went on, training became more and more brutal. He moved slowly, giving her plenty of time to react, but her arms still vibrated with the force of his blows. Every so often he would step back to allow her time to catch her breath, only to bark a command without warning and swing for her head again.

"Have you ever heard of resting?" she complained after her slowing reactions had almost resulted in her losing a hand. The point of her sword dangled just above the ground and her arms felt too weak to lift it.

He, on the other hand, wasn't even sweating. He twirled the sword without taking his eyes off her, his face as calm and relaxed as it had been when they'd started.

"Show off," Zia muttered to herself, shifting her weight and hefting the sword so that the blade was in front of her face. She would be ready this time.

Instead of shouting another command, Edmund sheathed his sword and stepped in a slow half-circle until he was at her side. She eyed him warily. Without a word, he placed his hand on her shoulder then gently moved his palm down until it came to rest on her elbow. He applied a slight pressure to the crease, coaxing her arm into bending. His eyes returned to hers and she swallowed, returning the moisture to her dry throat. She felt her heart hammering and her legs trembling as he ran his hand down the back of each of her thighs, bending each knee in turn. He didn't say a word as he straightened and examined his work. Her stance was much stronger and she supported the sword's weight with her knees as well as her elbows. She looked less likely to be dragged down by the weapon and more like she was ready to use it to some effect.

He smiled at the blush on her cheeks. "Do you feel ready now?"

She nodded, her eyes as round as saucers.

"Good. Parry!"

There was a deafening clang as their swords smashed into contact. His strength made her arms tremble even though he was holding back. With some effort, Zia slid her blade along his and swung it round to slash at his waist. He danced out of the way, bringing his sword up to lunge at her ribs. She managed to jump back out of range but stumbled. In desperation she swiped her sword at his legs but he jumped clear. He blocked her next few swings before they even came close to connecting with him. She lunged determinedly at his chest and in a blur of movement he knocked the weapon right out of her hand. Then his arm was around her shoulders and the blade was at her neck.

"Dead," he murmured next to her ear.

"That's hardly fair," she grumbled, folding her arms.

He chuckled. "You put up a pretty good fight considering it was your first time."

"If I had my bow it would have gone in completely the opposite direction. I would have had your eye out before you'd even raised that silly piece of metal."

"Perhaps," he conceded, releasing her. "Pick up the sword, let's go again."

Sticking out her tongue at him, Zia did as she was told. Their next sparring match went much the same way – Zia's frustration drove her to slash at his body like a wild thing which, of course, was a huge mistake. His sword brushed off her attacks almost lazily, his mouth bearing an amused smile. Inevitably, she was worn down after a few minutes and raised her hands in surrender. She dropped the sword and followed it down onto the sand, flopping onto her back and throwing her arm dramatically across her face.

Edmund sighed, putting away his sword and sitting beside her. He watched her chest erratically rise and fall until her breathing began to even out and she dropped her arm. Her eyes found his as she sat up, pushing damp hair back from her face.

"I hope you don't treat all of your students like that."

Edmund smiled sheepishly. "Actually, you're my first student."

"Then how did you know you were a good teacher?"

He reached back and fiddled with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I only said that so you would trust me to come near you with a sword. I still remember how scared of it you were at the Solstice."

"I wasn't _scared_," she huffed. "There was no need to bring it with you."

"Alright, alright," he conceded. "The point is that you're making good progress. Whether that's down to my teaching skills or not is another matter." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. Zia looked away and the smile widened.

"What are you grinning at?" she mumbled.

"The blush looks lovely on your cheeks." He touched his finger to the underside of her chin, bringing her face up. "Zia, look at me."

His voice was hypnotic, drawing her eyes downward to be pulled into the depths of his gaze. His eyes bound her like chains that she couldn't struggle against even if she'd wanted to. His long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked at her. His face was close enough for her to count the freckles dotted across his nose and cheekbones. His name came out of her mouth as a feeble, breathy whisper.

"Ed…"

The distance between them became nothing as his lips touched hers. The kiss was brief, hesitant, but sweet and as he started to move back Zia automatically reached for him, sliding her hand around the back of his neck. Every nerve ending was a livewire as she firmly pulled his face back to hers. His arms wound their way around her waist until there was no space between their bodies. She was safe in his arms, protected from anything and everything. She could stare the world straight in the eyes because he would be there, always there.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." Edmund's voice was husky and laced with something halfway between relief and a kind of fervent enthusiasm.

She hummed in reply, resting her forehead tenderly against his. "Part of me wishes I'd let you do it sooner."

He leaned back to look at her. "Only part of you?"

"It's nothing you've done," she assured him, shifting so that both her hands were free to gently cup his face. "I'm just new to all of this – it's all a little frightening, to be truthful."

"That makes two of us," he said with a soft laugh.

Someone coughed. Zia started and hurriedly shuffled away from Edmund, whose eyes had already located the form of his older brother. Peter was leaning casually against the fence, dressed in a brown jerkin and trousers and trying to look as though he hadn't been there long enough to witness what had happened.

"Is there something we can help you with, Pete?" Edmund tried to sound cross even as a grin broke across his face.

"Sorry to interrupt your… _training_ session," Peter said with a smirk. "There's an important council meeting in half an hour that demands your presence, Edmund. I trust you hadn't forgotten?"

A look crossed Edmund's face that made Zia sure that he _had_ forgotten about the meeting, but he had composed himself in a matter of seconds. "Of course I remembered," he scoffed. "In fact you can count on me to be early."

"Looks like I arrived just in time," said Peter, taking in Zia's damp and grimy appearance. "Zia could do with a good bath. I'll send Lucy down to escort you. Ed, you'd better get changed." With that he turned on his heel and walked away, chuckling to himself.

"It appears this is where we depart," Edmund said with a grin.

He got to his feet and grasped Zia's forearm, pulling her up as well. He pulled her close and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear before gently pressing his lips to hers. He stepped back before either of them could become distracted. Zia bit back an indignant protest as, with a cheery wave, Edmund headed back towards the castle.

When Lucy found her, Zia's eyes were still locked on Edmund's retreating form even though he had long disappeared through a door.

With a beaming smile, Lucy took Zia's hand and started to tug her in the opposite direction towards a more convenient entrance to the building. "Don't worry, you'll see him again later," she teased with a giggle.


	21. Fragile

**Fragile**

Lucy was true to her word, perhaps more than she intended. Edmund and Zia spent every spare moment together. They trained in the early morning and met again in the evenings to sit in the library or stroll around the gardens. Within a week Peter grew tired of addressing his brother more than once before he would come out of his thoughts and back into the meeting at present. Ivy's patience withheld a little longer but even the gentle Dryad healer became fed up with doing work around the hospital that she had originally entrusted to Zia. Her assistant's mind was seldom on the task in hand and often she would forget about changing a patient's sheets or sponging a clammy forehead and drift to the window. There she would stare down at the beach until Ivy bustled into the room and snapped her out of her daze.

"This can't go on," Peter said wearily, resting his forehead on his hand. He sat in his favourite chair by the fire in the dimly lit room in which the Pevensies liked to spend their evenings. It was often the only calm time during the day when they could all sit together and talk about insignificant things, read or play chess. Edmund was absent from the gathering that night – Lucy had lost a dependable chess opponent and the Just King's absence was having sufficient impact on Peter. He hadn't been with his brother alone and face to face for days.

Peter sighed and closed his book. It no longer held any interest for him. He stared sullenly into the fire. The flames crackled and popped merrily in the grate. Outside the tall windows the stars winked like eyes amidst the deep blue sky.

"I shall lose my head if Edmund can't keep control of his throughout council meetings. Other members of the council are beginning to question his mental health. He's only nineteen, for Aslan's sake. He can cope perfectly well with his duties as well as find time to spend with Zia. He needs to learn to distinguish between business and pleasure and keep the two separate."

Susan glanced up from her book. "Don't be too hard on him, Peter. He's in love."

"That's what worries me," Peter confided. "He must know he can't stay with her. She's a Dryad and he's a king. Kings have duties to their subjects to find wives of royal breeding, whether the marriage will settle an allegiance or expand the kingdom's borders."

"We do not yet know whether he intends to marry her," Susan pointed out.

"Have you _seen_ him, Susan?" Peter cried. "His eyes are permanently clouded over and he can't think straight when she's not around. He doesn't even concentrate properly during sparring practise. She has turned him into a bumbling fool. If he does not intend to marry her, I will give up my throne."

"I think it's rather sweet," Lucy piped up. She knelt in front of the chess board on the hearth and was trying her best to fill in Edmund's role in their game. "I think Ed knows what is expected of him, Pete. He just wants to hold it off for as long as possible and spend as much time with Zia as he can before his obligations and her roots - pun very much intended - force them apart."

Peter regarded his sister with raised eyebrows. "That was incredibly insightful, Lu. I might appoint you to the council in Edmund's place."

"Let him alone for now," Susan advised, returning her attention to the volume in her hands. "No harm can come to him for the moment and that's all that matters."

Little did Susan know – little did any of them know – how alarmingly wrong that statement would turn out to be. They had all but forgotten the enemy that lurked in the woods. They knew nothing of the plots those creatures harboured in their ugly heads. It was time for them to take action against the children who had defeated their mistress. They would bring Narnia to its knees alongside its precious Kings and Queens. They would all pay the price of tampering with things they could not possibly understand. Starting with the traitor.

* * *

Now that sword practise had become routine, dragging herself from the luxurious four-poster bed was no problem at all for Zia. The anticipation of seeing Edmund put a spring in her step and made her way to the training ring. Today the rising sun cast a glorious golden glow over the gardens. The flowers seemed to turn up their leaves and stretch their stems to meet the gentle caress of the sun's light and warmth. Zia's mood refused to be dampened even when she rounded the corner and discovered the training ring empty and the Just King nowhere in sight. No matter how early she arrived, Edmund was always there first. The weaponry and other equipment were always set out and he would usually be warming up, otherwise leaning against the gate, ready with a grin and a "Good morning". His absence was certainly odd, but more likely down to a groggy start than a kidnapping or some other diabolical event.

Zia perched on the fence and gazed up, watching the sun begin its long journey across the sky. June was here and the Summer Solstice was on its way; the first Solstice she would spend with Edmund after five long years. Dancing Lawn would not be the same – the carnage would take a long time to repair – but the Narnians wouldn't let that ruin the festivities. There were plenty of other clearings in which to hold the dance and build the bonfire. Hopefully a clearing could be found that was large enough for her to avoid Maia and the rest of the Dryads and also keep Edmund out of the way of their judgemental stares and Maia's scathing remarks. Perhaps Breejit would allow her a dance and they could part on good terms. Their friendship, like Dancing Lawn, was permanently scarred, but that didn't mean it couldn't be restored to the point where conversation wasn't so upsetting.

Half an hour went by and still no Edmund. If he hadn't got himself out of bed by now then Zia would definitely have something to say about it. Her duties of guardianship didn't say anything about dragging lazy kings out of their beds, but her impatience convinced her to make an exception. With a huff she jumped off the fence and flounced back the way she had come. Climbing up the last flight of stairs she met Lucy heading the other way, down to the dining hall for breakfast.

"Good morning, Zia! Where are you going? Don't you have training with Edmund?"

"We're _supposed_ to be training," Zia affirmed. "Edmund hasn't shown up yet. Is he still in bed?"

Lucy furrowed her brow. "I haven't seen or heard him leave his room since I've been up. He's usually awake before I am on training days."

"That's what I thought," Zia said before stomping up the rest of the stairs. Lucy followed her and winced at the force Zia used to knock on Edmund's door. "Edmund! Why aren't you down at the ring already? Hurry up!"

A quiet, agonised moan sounded on the other side of the door. Zia looked at Lucy and it was like looking in the mirror; their startled and confused expressions were exactly alike.

"Ed?" Lucy called softly. There was no reply. "Ed, we're coming in."

Edmund lay on his back with his chin on his chest, propped up against the mountain of cushions. The blankets only covered up to his waist; they were damp, like his linen nightshirt. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and his skin was even paler than usual. He almost blended in with the white pillows.

Lucy hurried to her brother's side and immediately placed her hand on his forehead. An expression of shock appeared on her features. "We need Ivy," she said firmly.

Zia still stood by the door, taking in Edmund's suddenly feeble appearance. She gave a quick nod, turned on her heel and sprinted from the room. Minutes later she was back with Ivy struggling to keep up. The healer's arms were full of a tray littered with various bottles and pouches and scraps of material. Lucy moved to stand beside to Zia, clasping her warm fingers around the Dryad's. They watched Ivy measure Edmund's pulse, peer into his eyes and take his temperature. She sprinkled a few herbs into a clay bowl and handed it to Zia. She automatically began to rhythmically grind the herbs into a paste with a pestle.

The King's eyes opened and instantly found Zia's. He looked from her, then to Ivy and Lucy and back again, a confused light in his clouded eyes. "What…?" The word grated up his throat and he coughed painfully.

Lucy's hand found Zia's and squeezed. Edmund's eyes rolled and the lids slid down.

"What's wrong with him?" Lucy asked quietly as Ivy gently spooned a frothy mixture into Edmund's mouth. Some of it missed and dripped down his chin. Ivy scraped it off and dabbed at his face with a damp cloth.

"A high fever and, by the sounds of it a nasty cough – at the moment."

"What does that mean?" Zia asked.

"It means that the illness is not serious for the time being, but could get worse. At present I cannot identify the cause."

"Can't you do anything more?"

"I will do all I can. Other than that all we can do is pray to Aslan that nothing else develops."

Ivy packed up her equipment and left the room, promising to return in an hour or so to check on Edmund. Lucy filled the water jug on the bedside table and plumped the pillows until she was sure her brother was comfortable.

"Aren't you coming?"

Zia realised Lucy was already making to leave. "I must stay with him."

Lucy knew better than to argue. "Of course. Just let me know if you need anything." She kissed Zia's cheek and backed out of the room. The door clicked softly then everything was silent.

Desperate to keep busy, Zia wandered around the room, brushing specks of dust off the furniture and straightening out the curtains. The sky outside the window was a glorious azure colour. A murky fog seemed to hang over the four-poster bed where the King lay.

_High fever … could get worse … cannot identify the cause…_

Without her permission, Zia's feet took her to his bedside. His hand lay limp beside his supine form, palm up, as though seeking comfort from another hand. She unthinkingly slid her fingers into the gaps between his and squeezed. His eyelashes quivered as though he knew she was there. Careful not to disturb him, she climbed onto the bed and wriggled into a comfortable position far enough away so her body heat wouldn't affect his already abnormal temperature. Zia's head dropped back against the headboard. Where was Alex when they needed her?

Nina would have known what to do. She had never once lost her cool, calm composure in the face of an emergency. No illness that befell the forest creatures was too much for her to handle. She could have sorted out this mess in a matter of minutes. But she was gone, with no way of coming back. Sayalla and the other healers were miles away. Although she was knowledgeable, Ivy's experience was nothing compared to that of the entire clan's together. Someone, somewhere, would know how to help Edmund. But that someone wasn't there. With Edmund's future uncertain, there was no time to go searching all over Narnia for them.

"Aslan, I need your help," she whimpered aloud.

A warm breeze stirred the curtains and drifted across the room. It brought with it the smell of spring flowers and sweet grass. Dust motes stirred and chased each other across the stone floor like newborn lambs. It picked up strands of her hair and tousled them gently. Zia inhaled deeply, breathing in the scents of spring. Something in the air made her skin tingle, as though an invisible presence had entered the room with the breeze.

"Aslan?" she whispered.

There was no reply. Something silky brushed across her cheek and then was gone. The delicious smells evaporated and the curtains were still once again.

When she looked across at Edmund, she was startled to see his eyes open. They were looking at her face, but they were glazed and far away. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile although even that small movement seemed a lot of effort for him. She squeezed his hand again and he faintly squeezed back.

"I could have sworn I just…" he started, but was cut off by a violent cough.

"I know," she said, "I felt it too. He's here somewhere, Ed. I just wish he'd tell me what to do. I need to know how to help you." She gazed at him pleadingly. "Tell me how you feel."

He coughed again. "Like someone has their hands wrapped around my windpipe - most likely a Minotaur."

Reaching over, she gently picked a knot out of his hair with her fingers. He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes. Before long his hand was slack inside hers. He was weak; he had only been awake for ten minutes at the most. Whatever affected him was tightening its hold by the minute. If only the illness was as easy to cure as the bruise from when he'd kicked that wall…

She sat upright. How could she have been so stupid? If she couldn't cure him, she could at least find out what was causing the illness. She'd been shown how within the first six months of her training. Ivy must have been taught differently otherwise she'd have already done it. Grabbing his hand tightly between both of hers, she closed her eyes and concentrated on visualising.

What she saw shocked her. Edmund's body was a battlefield; every cell fought against an unknown intruder. His heart struggled to beat strongly enough for the blood to move through his veins. The insides of his lungs were coated with thick, sticky mucus. The ugly scene unfolded behind her eyes like a battle map; various splodges of colour represented the weakening soldiers of his immune system and the infantry of the toxin. There was more than one type of invading bacteria. One set was decidedly smaller and centred mainly around the lungs, but the larger, more brutish ones seemed to be everywhere, attacking every living tissue in sight. The bacteria grew more abundant the deeper she dug, searching for the commander of the onslaught. Images and possibilities thundered through her brain. She suddenly felt faint.

A soft knock at the door caused her to jump. The picture vanished. Beside her, Edmund's eyes were still closed, his breaths shallow but even. There came another knock then the door was pushed open slightly. Light from the corridor outside caught Peter's hair and it shone like a halo about his head.

"Oh! Peter!" Zia scrambled off the bed and hurried to curtsey. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise -"

He held up a hand. "I came with Ivy to check on Edmund."

The older Dryad stepped into the room with her tray and immediately began fussing over Edmund. She repeated all of her methodical checks whilst Zia and Peter watched, not looking at each other and neither saying a word. "I'm afraid he doesn't look any better," Ivy concluded with an apologetic smile. "I'll mix up some more medicine right away." Leaving her tray on the bedside table, she hurried from the room.

"Were you planning on staying with him tonight?"

Surprised by the abrupt question and the sharpness in the High King's eyes, Zia took a step back. "I thought it would be best if I remained at his bedside, Sire, in case his condition worsens."

"I have already requested that Ivy keep watch over him tonight. She is more experienced in the medical field than you are."

That sounded to Zia like an insult. "I am his appointed guardian, Your Majesty. It is my duty to be by his side."

"I relieve you of your duty tonight."

Her fingers flexed. They stared each other down across Edmund's bed where he lay oblivious. Peter's hands were folded behind his back, his posture ramrod straight. There was no teasing glint in his eyes, only cold, hard seriousness.

Digging her nails into her palms, Zia lowered her head. "As you wish, Sire."

His eyes followed her movements as she made her way slowly to the door. She left with the icy orbs burning the back of her neck and frustrated tears stinging her eyes.

* * *

Rain hammered on the castle roof, echoing hollowly down the empty corridors. Lit torches hung in braziers on the walls, replacing natural daylight with an eerie, flickering glow that drew the peaceful faces in the stained-glass windows into grotesque grins. Shadows lurked in corners and behind tapestries. The rumble of thunder masked the sound of Zia's footsteps as she hurried from the infirmary, clutching a blanket to her chest, although she still kept as quiet as she could. Some of the servants were very light sleepers.

The room was pitch dark but at least the drumming was somewhat muffled. A streak of lightning momentarily revealed Ivy draped in an armchair next to the bed. Her head lolled to one side and her hands rested on the open pages of the book in her lap. Zia spread her blanket on the floor on the opposite side of the bed to Ivy, moving silently so as not to wake her or the sleeping King. Zia was close enough to the bed to hear the rustle of the sheets as Edmund twitched in his sleep even over the insistent rain. She would sleep easier now.

The last thing she told herself before she drifted off was that she'd wake up early enough to flee the room before either of them woke up or the High King arrived to check on his brother.


	22. Perpetrator

**Perpetrator**

When she opened her eyes, another pair was staring down at her. Startled, she bolted upright, clutching the blanket to her chest. Ivy's lips stretched into a smile.

"You were very sneaky last night," she commented mildly. "I didn't hear you come in. You'd better hurry. I daresay someone will be here in a few minutes to check on Edmund."

"Have you examined him yet?" Ivy shook her head. "Then I want to help."

Her eyebrows pulled together briefly. "But His Majesty specifically said-"

"I promise I'll leave straight afterwards. Please."

Ivy relented and Zia scrambled up, dusting down her dress. She stood ready as Ivy carried out her examination, crushing up a bowl of herbs when Ivy handed it to her. She kept a close eye on the older Dryad's face, watching for any giveaway about Edmund's condition in her expression. Ivy's face was very animated and Zia had learned to interpret the slightest change in her features. What she saw now caused her stomach to twist into a cold knot; Ivy's mouth was visibly turned down and her eyes were full of worry.

"What's wrong?" Zia blurted, holding back the urge to throw herself onto the bed beside Edmund. "Ivy, what's happened?"

Gravely, Ivy took the bowl from her and examined the contents. "I'm afraid this will no longer be enough to help him."

"What do you -?"

Her question was cut short by a sturdy knock at the door. Ivy's eyes widened with panic. She gestured at the large wardrobe whilst hurrying to the door to stall whoever was knocking. With no time to protest, Zia clambered inside the wardrobe, crouching beneath the neatly pressed tunics and breeches hanging above. Dust swirled and got up her nose. She fought back a sneeze and peered through the small gap between the doors. Ivy stepped aside to reveal the High King.

"How is he?" the question was out of Peter's mouth before he had even crossed the threshold.

Ivy hesitated, shooting a furtive glance towards the wardrobe. "I'm afraid his condition has worsened since yesterday evening, Sire."

Muffling a gasp with her hand, Zia rocked back and almost lost her balance. As he moved to his brother's bed, Peter's stride was far less self-assured than when he entered the throne room or paced the corridors of Cair Paravel. Anxiety altered his entire stature; his shoulders drooped and his head hung low as he reached out to brush the dark hair back off Edmund's forehead.

"The cause of the illness remains a mystery," Ivy added, breaking the strained silence.

"Did anything happen during the night?" Peter asked. He straightened and turned to the Dryad, fixing her with all the intensity of his bright blue gaze.

Ivy's eyes flickered downwards as she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Not that I know of, Sire, but the storm…"

Peter held up his hand. "It doesn't matter now. From now on you are to stay in this room and watch over him. If there is the slightest change, tell me immediately. I'm sure Zia is quite capable of managing the hospital wing on her own - at least, she will be once she extracts her mind from the clouds and focuses on actually doing her job."

The bite in his voice was so harsh that Ivy could barely mask her shock. Inside the wardrobe, Zia's hands curled into fists. For a moment she didn't care that Peter was High King; he had no right to insult her like that. There was nothing wrong with the way she felt for Edmund, was there? She didn't need Ivy's confirmation to know that they would both be happier if Zia were to take care of Edmund whilst Ivy tended to their other patients. Peter wasn't being fair. Why was he so determined to keep her away from his younger brother?

It was only the thought that Peter could throw her right out of the castle's front door within seconds that kept her from bursting from the wardrobe and telling the High King exactly what she thought of him. Once he had left, her undignified exit from the confined space preceded a seething rant as she paced the stone floor in front of the window. Ivy calmly arranged vials and bowls on her tray whilst Zia released all the anger that had gathered inside her and eventually stopped her pacing to gaze sorrowfully down at the pale form beneath the scarlet sheets.

"I hate him, Ivy," Zia whispered fiercely.

Ivy shushed her gently. "We both know you don't mean that. He's frightened of what might happen to Edmund but he can't let it show. He needs to appear strong for all our sakes."

"Do I really have to stay in the hospital wing?"

"I'll try to work something out, but for now I think it's best if you pay more attention to the other people who need our help. You'll know if Edmund's current condition changes, I promise."

Her eyes moved of their own accord to the bed, taking in the unnatural stillness of Edmund's body. They both watched the tiny movements of his chest, neither of them speaking. The thought to tell Ivy what she had seen beneath Edmund's skin played itself over in Zia's mind, but she kept her lips pressed together even as she pulled the door shut behind her. She had to be the one to save Edmund. It was the only way to gain Peter's respect and show him that she was more than just a lovesick fool permanently attached to Edmund's side.

The most obvious solution was to head to the library. As she stood despairingly in the centre of the fire lit room, it was the second time in as many days that Zia wished Alex was still around. There were several things Zia could do that the human girl couldn't, but the main skill that Alex possessed was her ability to make sense of the black squiggles on the musty parchment glued inside the thousands of leather covers. There was bound to be a book on one of the shelves that would give her the answers she needed, but until the lines and loops arranged themselves into words, she would get absolutely nowhere.

Lucy found her an hour later. A book was in her lap, her chin rested on one hand whilst the other aimlessly flicked through the yellowed pages. The click as the door opened made her start and the book almost slipped from her grasp. The relief when she saw Lucy was shamelessly obvious; if Peter had been the one to walk in on her… She didn't want to think about the consequences.

"Any luck?" Lucy asked, lowering herself into the armchair across from Zia.

"I could have the solution right now – if I could read," Zia answered miserably.

Lucy put a hand to her mouth. "Did no one ever teach you?"

"Dryads have no use for books." She slammed the cover shut and dropped the offending object onto the growing pile at her feet. All the knowledge they needed was contained within the Dryads of Western Wood, but Peter wouldn't let Ivy leave Edmund's side and Zia could never show her face in the Grove again.

"I'd be glad to teach you," Lucy offered.

Zia shook her head. "Thanks, but we're running out of time. Ivy says Edmund's getting worse. There's no telling how long…" Her sentence trailed off. The word _death_ hung in the air, growing stronger and stronger until they would have no choice but to acknowledge it.

"Edmund's my brother. I'd do anything that might help save him." Lucy looked at her steadily. "Just tell me what to do."

Zia's body reacted before her mind did. She was across the room and flinging her arms around Lucy's neck - despite the fact that Lucy was sitting down - before either of them could take a breath. She relinquished her hold just as quickly, heat creeping into her cheeks. Lucy's face broke into a grin.

"I guess we should start in the medicine section," Lucy suggested, jumping up from the chair. "It's rather large, though. Do you have any idea what we're looking for?"

Zia followed her into the maze of shelves. "All Dryads have this special ability to sense what's going on inside a patient's body," she explained, watching Lucy lean a ladder against the shelves and start to climb up it. "I did it when I was in Edmund's room yesterday. There's definitely something inside him that shouldn't be there."

"Mm-hm," Lucy murmured, selecting a volume and passing it down. "I wonder why Ivy didn't think of doing that."

Zia shrugged, adjusting the book's heavy weight so it sat more comfortably in her arms. "Maybe she never got taught how to do it properly. Whatever's inside Edmund is doing a lot of damage fairly quickly. I haven't had a chance to check him over thoroughly since, but his condition is definitely worsening. Do you know what he was doing the day before he fell ill?"

"As far as I know it was just a normal day. He trained with you in the morning, attended a few council meetings, ate with us in the dining hall... Then he sparred with Peter in the afternoon before rushing off to meet you again."

Zia huffed in frustration. "There has to be _some_thing!"

"You say there's something inside him that shouldn't be there?" Lucy said thoughtfully, trailing her finger over the leather spines lining the self.

"His body's trying to fight it off, but it seems to be slowly breaking down everything vital. If it carries on at the rate it's going, it will eventually…" _Kill him._

Lucy gave a mirthless chuckle. "Sounds to me like we've already found the culprit." She pulled another book off the shelf and showed Zia the cover. The title was engraved in a fancy gold script.

"What does it say?" Zia demanded, squirming with her armful of books.

"Poisons."

Alexandra's voice suddenly broke into Zia's thoughts. The words were from weeks ago, when they'd been standing in almost the exact same places as she and Lucy were stood now.

_There's this book about Bezoars and other antidotes to poisons._

The books tumbled to the floor. She barely registered Lucy's wide-eyed stare before grabbing the book from her and taking off, heading for the door with her name echoing in her ears. Ivy's eyes grew wider as Zia rushed to explain, pushing the book at her and gasping between words. Lucy arrived a few moments later, puffing with the exertion of running up so many stairs.

Ivy looked to the young Queen for confirmation and, in some places, a translation of what Zia was saying. Lucy nodded fervently. "It's the only explanation. Alex must have somehow known this was going to happen."

A faint groan sounded from the direction of the bed and all three turned at once. Edmund's eyes seemed to have sunk into his face and the pastiness of his skin made them look like two black holes. His gaze flitted between them, dimmer but with some of the same alertness he showed when he was healthy. The question in his eyes was clear, although it took quite a bit of effort for the muscles in his face to form the right expression.

Zia was at his side in seconds. She laid her hand across his forehead and tried not to make a show of snatching it back. The temperature of his skin was scorching. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

"A drink would be nice," he barely managed to croak.

Ivy, who was stood closest to the jug of water on the bedside table, obliged. Edmund accepted the brimming cup gratefully. He took a large gulp, winced slightly, and then drained the rest in one. Zia carefully dabbed away the drips rolling towards his chin as he handed the cup back to Ivy. As he did, a series of racking coughs overcame him. He bent over so that his forehead was almost on his knees, shaking with the force of each cough. Zia looked up at Ivy in alarm, but she was already there with another glass of the water and was stirring some kind of sticky green mixture with a spoon. Zia retreated to Lucy's side. The Queen's eyes moved from Ivy and her brother down to the book lying on the bed and back up again. Zia could almost hear the gears in her brain clicking.

When Edmund's coughs had subsided and he had sunk back against the pillows, Ivy and Lucy left the room. Lucy took the book with her, already leafing through the pages with her eyebrows knitted together. Zia pressed herself as close as she dared to Edmund's side, ignoring the uncomfortable heat of his skin. He automatically nestled his head in the crook of her neck and lightly played with a few strands of her hair. It wasn't long before they both drifted into sleep.

* * *

It was dark outside when Zia woke up. She was still clutching Edmund tightly to her, and she could feel his breaths tickling her neck. The roots of her hair were damp with sweat – Edmund's temperature still hadn't eased up. With her stiff muscles protesting, she extracted herself from the tangle of blankets and limbs and let out a quiet sigh as her feet touched the chill stone floor. Ivy was asleep in the armchair. Zia crossed the room to the open window and stuck her head out into the night. She took several big gulps of the blissfully cool air, feeling considerably better almost right away.

As she turned back to the dark room, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. A scuffling noise came from the far side of the bed, as though a small animal was scrabbling around underneath it. A quick glance at the lump under the covers told her Edmund was still sound asleep. Only the sound of deep and even breathing came from the armchair beside her. The snuffling sounded almost hog-like and once or twice she could have sworn she heard it curse. None of the servants would ever dare utter profanities, especially not in the presence of a royal, asleep or not. Whatever it was, Zia was almost certain it didn't know she was listening. It must have been too preoccupied with its current frenzy to hear her get up.

The sounds didn't cease as she tiptoed around the edge of the bed, craning her neck and squinting into the shadows. As she neared the corner bedpost, the sheets rustled as the bed's occupant rolled over. Both Zia and the intruder stopped still until Edmund's quiet snores resumed. She took a few more steps forward, but the darkness was so absolute that she still couldn't make out a figure.

Until it flew at her.

Claws scraped at her skin, teeth dug into her scalp and leathery wings flapped at her face as she reeled backwards in shock. Her leg knocked against something solid and her balance failed. She landed on her back on the bed as the creature continued to screech and howl. It writhed away from her hands as she blindly grabbed at it. Its nails tore the sensitive skin around her eyes, but she dared not cry out in case its next target was her mouth. Suddenly, a force like the swipe of a sword swished past her face and the creature's yowling was silenced.

She slowly eased her eyes open. The room was now illuminated by the light of a single candle. It was enough for her to see Ivy's shocked face and the burnt out match in her hand. Edmund was poised on the end of the bed in a defensive stance, the hilt of his sword firmly gripped in both hands. He was panting heavily, the colour steadily draining from his face. He dropped the sword just before he collapsed. Zia started towards him and her foot came into contact with something warm and wet. Although she knew she shouldn't, she glanced down. The severed body of whatever had attacked her lay in a pool of its own blood, killed by a single stroke of Edmund's sword. The blade glistened in the candlelight.

"What is _that_?"

Ivy came cautiously round to join her. She nudged the body with her foot. "It's a harpy." She sounded as shocked as Zia felt. "It's only a baby, nowhere near full-grown. If it was it could have easily torn all the skin off your face." Ivy peered at her in the feeble light, assessing her injuries. "Does it hurt?"

Zia shook her head, although the stinging around her eyes had strengthened to a burn. She skirted around the dead harpy and gingerly picked up the sword, trying not to think about the sticky black goo splattered down one edge. She moved the weapon to Edmund's desk before helping Ivy tuck the exhausted King back underneath the sheets. There was a tinkling sound as Ivy's foot caught something and sent it skittering across the floor. Zia bent to retrieve it and held it up for Ivy to see. The object was a small glass vial, about half the size of her little finger. It contained a dark purple liquid and was sealed with a tiny cork.

"I bet that's what it was looking for," Zia murmured, dropping the vial into Ivy's outstretched hand. "Do you know what it is?"

Ivy carefully removed the cork and held the container to her nose. She jerked her head back, blinking hard.

"Ivy?"

"It's poison," she said. They both gazed down at the harpy, killed during its mission. The flickering light threw disconcerting shadows across the void between the two halves of its body. "I think we've found our perpetrator."


	23. We're Not Giving Up

**We're Not Giving Up**

The council assembled for an emergency meeting two days later. Ivy and Zia both received invitations, but the latter only accepted in order to keep a close eye on Edmund – he had been declared well enough to leave his chamber for a few hours every day as long as he avoided his study and any strenuous exercise. He sat in his chair with a deliberate scowl on his face but did as he was told. Zia made sure to claim the seat beside him before anyone else could get there. She met Peter's raised eyebrows with a calm glance. Their eyes locked for a few seconds before the High King turned away.

Part of Peter knew he was being somewhat unreasonable but, although he seldom admitted it, he needed Edmund's guidance to keep order in Narnia and Edmund couldn't help him if he was off somewhere constructing false dreams.

_The door burst open and in rushed three breathless monarchs, followed closely by a small crowd of servants wearing night caps and slippers._

"_What in Aslan's name is going on?" Peter demanded._

"_We heard screams," Susan clarified._

_Lucy was the first to notice the body. Her hands flew to her mouth to muffle a strangled squeak._

"_What happened?" Peter repeated._

"_We've found out who was poisoning Edmund," Zia said coolly. "Edmund killed it before it got the chance to finish the job."_

_Ivy held the vial of purple liquid out towards Peter. "Sorcery was most likely used to increase the potency of the ingredients, sire."_

"_Can you make an antidote?"_

_Ivy hesitated, her eyes moving to Lucy. The young Queen nodded._

"_Get some sleep first," Peter said, his tone softening. Ivy gave a quick curtsey, taking that as permission to leave the room._

_Seeing the excitement was over, the group of servants trudged after Ivy, some stifling yawns. Susan took Lucy by the shoulders and gently steered her back to her own bed. Soon just Zia and Peter remained. Ignoring the sudden awkwardness that had descended, Zia reached for the pillows under Edmund's head. Peter unintentionally mirrored her movements and a split second of uncomfortable eye contact followed. The High King cleared his throat._

"_If you have something to say, please, go ahead," Zia said stiffly._

_Peter's mouth opened to rebuke her, but he found himself stifling a yawn instead. He shook the fuzziness out of his brain and fixed his most kingly stare directly into Zia's eyes._

"_If I have mistreated you over the past few days, I apologise. It seems your love for my brother is stronger than I thought. You've shown tonight that you would be willing to risk your life for him. But I assume you are aware of the… difficulties a courtship with him would bring?" Zia's eyes dropped to the bed. "I will always want the best for Edmund no matter what. When the time comes for Edmund to find a queen, I would not object to you remaining at the castle should you wish to do so. However I would insist that you keep your distance."_

_Zia nodded, pretended to be fascinated by the bedspread to avoid looking at him._

_"I won't hesitate to say that Edmund is lucky to have you by his side for now. But you must understand that your relationship with him cannot go further."_

A slight pressure on her hand brought her back to the present. She returned Edmund's small smile and ignored the question in his eyes, turning her gaze to the members of the board and trying to pick up the discussion. A group of Giants had been causing disruption close to the Northern border, and the Marsh Wiggles were beginning to grow more concerned than usual. Oreius the Centaur was just proposing to send a select group of men to settle the dispute when the door opened and in trotted the Faun Zia had met on her first visit to the castle.

"My sincerest apologies for the rude interruption, Your Highnesses." The Faun addressed the floor as he bowed elaborately.

"What's the matter, Ruskin?" Peter asked.

"Another one of the Dryads from Western Wood has requested to speak with you about a matter of great urgency."

"Well, send him in."

The Dryad stepped into the room and Zia was instantly on her feet. "Tigran!"

There was something wrong with Tigran's face; his expression had lost all of its liveliness. The mouth that barely ever paused to take a breath was pulled down at the corners and his eyes were devoid of their usual mischief. Zia found herself shuddering as he glanced up at her.

"You know him?" This was from Edmund. He tried to get up out of his chair but was firmly pushed back down.

"He rescued me from the… dungeon…" The look that came into Edmund's eyes made Zia shut her mouth.

"You have a message for us?" Peter prompted, looking curiously between the two Dryads and his younger brother.

"Sire, last night Western Wood was attacked by the same brutes that kidnapped Zia."

A gasp lodged in Zia's throat. The council members looked uneasily at each other. Susan moved around the table and gently took Tigran by the shoulders. Tigran steadied himself with a deep breath and went on to explain. A raiding party had descended on the areas surrounding the Grove in the middle of the night. They had carried flaming torches, which they used to set fire to homes after they'd all but torn them apart. Maia and the Dryad archers had driven them away, but not before several innocent lives had been lost and half the forest destroyed and burned to ashes.

The hollowness in Tigran's tone turned Zia's heart to ice. The certainty that something even more unspeakable had happened gnawed away at her until Tigran's tale was done and he turned his gaze upon her once more.

"Zia, I'm sorry but… Breejit didn't make it out."

Something heavy caught Zia in the chest and before she knew it she had fallen back into her chair. Edmund's arms were around her and this time nobody did anything to stop him. Her breaths were too loud in her own ears, her heart beat so fast she was sure it would stop. The voices of Peter, Tigran and the others were drowned out by the noise of her own internal distress. Their faces began to blur as hot, fierce tears gathered in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She was slightly aware of another voice – a familiar, soothing voice – murmuring senseless comfort next to her ear. Someone else was crouched on the other side of her chair; their hands gripped hers so tightly that the feeling seeped out of them. Drops of moisture splashed onto her neck and shoulder, mingling with her own tears.

She had always assumed she'd get a chance to talk things over with Breejit, apologise for all the times she'd let him down and refused to take his advice. They could have both been spared those days in the dungeon if she'd just done what he'd said in the first place. She had hated parting with him on such bad terms, but a friendship with him was something she'd always assumed she'd have. He couldn't be gone. A hollow feeling grew inside her, threatening to consume her whole being.

Blinking away the tears, her eyes found Edmund's. They were full of sadness, but the sympathetic kind, the kind that said he was sorry for her pain but felt none himself.

"He's not gone, Ed."

Edmund took her face between his hands. "I'm afraid he is, sweetheart. They found the body."

"No," she argued, pushing him away. "He wouldn't just leave me."

"I know it's hard, Zia. First you lost Nina and now Breejit…"

"Stop it!" she yelled. "It's easy for you, you've never lost anyone. You're King and you always get everything you want and you never have to give anything up!"

By now the voices around the table had fallen silent. All conversations in the room had halted so every eye could turn on Zia. Fauns shifted their hooves. She had begun to tremble and her jaw was clenched almost hard enough to break her teeth.

Edmund didn't like the way they were all watching her - like they were waiting for the grand finale of a magic show.

"Pete, we're going after them." The words had the desired effect and all eyes turned to him.

Peter's mouth fell open. "Have you lost your mind?" He spoke in a hushed voice, glancing nervously at the pairs of eyes fixed on his brother.

"Do I need any more reason to want to tear every last one of them to pieces?" Edmund retorted, gesturing behind him at Zia's shivering form.

Peter was speechless. He floundered around in his brain but no words made it to his mouth. His jaw moved up and down uselessly for several seconds before Susan stepped forward.

"Ed, you can't possibly be thinking of going anywhere in your current physical condition," she said sternly. "You're supposed to be in bed right now. You were poisoned just a few days ago or had you forgotten?"

"Some things aren't worth risking for love," Peter added, "Especially your life."

"I'm with Peter and Susan," said Lucy. "It's just too dangerous, Ed."

A murmur of agreement travelled around the table. Tigran looked around at all the sombre, well-groomed faces and felt frustration stirring in his stomach. Edmund's body shielded Zia from his view but Ivy's crumpled face was in plain sight. Part of their home and several of their friends had perished, but the carnage was too distant from High King Peter and his pampered set of advisors for them to do anything about it. They were afraid of precious King Edmund getting hurt, but he Tigran, was in perfect physical shape and could probably handle a sword better than Edmund could, anyway.

"Allow me to make a proposal," he said, once again bringing silence down upon the room. "I shall take Zia and Ivy back to the Grove where we will assemble an army and storm the fortress of these monsters, leaving not one of them alive and therefore solving all our problems."

Edmund raised one eyebrow at him. "You're not going anywhere with an army of just Dryads. They'd be expecting you to take revenge and I'd bet any money they have a dirty scheme lined up to wipe each and every one of you out. They must know by now that to take Narnia they'd have to get through your entire race."

"They couldn't launch an attack on the castle without getting through us first," Tigran agreed. "But this is about the people of Western Wood that lost their homes, families and friends last night. They need reassurance that nothing like that will ever happen again and they need it soon. The longer we wait, the more frightened they'll become and the less faith they'll have in you, Your Majesty."

"I'm afraid Tigran is correct, sire," put in Oreius. "The people will be expecting protection from their Kings and Queens in times of need. We must give them something or I fear they will lose all hope."

Peter rubbed his forehead tiredly. "If we sent an army then Zia would insist on helping, which means Edmund will be ready to follow her. We can't expect him to fight after the events of the past few days."

"Pete, I'm standing right here," Edmund reminded his brother. "And I promise I'm fine. Fit as a fiddle."

Peter's eyes swept over him. "We'll see about that."

"Is that a challenge?" Edmund countered.

"Indeed. Meet me in the arena and we'll see just how fit you're really feeling."

Tigran spoke up. "If I might interrupt, I'll have an army ready by tomorrow, regardless of whether we're invited or not. I won't be denied revenge for what has happened."

Peter nodded. "I can't say that I don't agree. My brother and I would be honoured to fight alongside you."

"I'm going too." Zia was on her feet, her cheeks dry and her hands as steady as rocks. "I can't let Breejit go without avenging him."

"See what I mean?" Peter murmured. Everyone laughed and Edmund wrapped his arm around Zia's waist. "Tigran, have your army ready by tomorrow afternoon and we'll ride out to meet you. Edmund and I will try to think up a strategy tonight and I'll assess his capabilities in the arena." Here he winked at Edmund and the council gave another collective laugh. "Oh, and someone will have to keep an eye on Zia to make sure she doesn't run off and try to face the enemy alone."

Zia was content with rolling her eyes. She didn't need to show Peter up in front of his council. She hugged Tigran goodbye and waited beside Edmund until the conference room had emptied.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Edmund asked, peering at her face between his hands.

"I will be when we've rid Narnia of those beasts forever."

Edmund smiled. "Believe me, we will."

* * *

As the sun had began its journey down to meet the horizon, Zia left the castle in search of some fresh air. Perhaps she was feeling nostalgic, for her feet took her past the castle gardens and onwards towards the training ring.

Laughter and the high-pitched sing of metal against metal grew clearer as she approached. The sunlight glinted off the armour of two figures side-stepping each other with their swords raised, each trying to anticipate the other's movement. She stopped a safe distance away and half hid behind a flowering bush to watch the two brothers circling like prowling lions. Despite her waning opinion of Peter she had to admit he looked impressive adorned with shiny metal plates. She followed his movements as he leapt at Edmund, bringing his sword down in a wide arc towards his brother's head. Edmund quickly danced aside, almost losing his footing as Peter's sword changed course and swept towards his legs. Within minutes of observing their fight Zia's heart was pounding. She realised Peter had no intention of going easy on Edmund. She started to question whether Peter wouldn't hurt him if the opportunity arose. The other King seemed not to be as fit as he thought; he certainly appeared to be far less sure of himself than he had been when Zia was his opponent.

"Come on Ed, you're slipping," Peter called as Edmund narrowly avoided getting Peter's sword embedded in his neck.

"I expected you to go easy on me," Edmund retorted breathlessly.

"Don't be ridiculous! Do you think those Minotaurs will go easy on you tomorrow?" Nevertheless, he stepped back and allowed Edmund to catch his breath.

Edmund gritted his teeth and suddenly relaxed all over. He brought his sword up and, with a wicked grin, unleashed a torrent of attacks that were impossible for Zia to follow. She couldn't help grinning to herself when she realised he had been feigning exhaustion the whole time. Edmund's strikes never relented until he had forced Peter right back against the fence and held the point of his sword against the spot directly over Peter's heart.

"Who said I was slipping?" Edmund teased, stepping back and sheathing his sword.

Peter laughed and slung his arm across Edmund's shoulders. "Remind me to never underestimate you."

As they made their way towards her, both of them laughing and with their arms around each other, Zia slipped away.

* * *

"I came to check you were still in one piece."

Edmund flung out his arms and twirled on the spot. "Peter can barely land a blow on me."

"I can believe that," Zia replied, smoothing the bunched-up fabric at the waist of his tunic. "I wasn't really worried." Her hands lingered on his waist, a shy question in her eyes. _Is this okay?_

He carefully slipped his fingers around her wrists, pulling her arms tighter around him. Her hair smelled amazing under his nose and her breaths were warm against his neck. "I suppose there's no point in asking if you were serious about coming with us tomorrow."

"I saved your life," she reminded him. Drawing back from him, she let his eyes wander over the light bruising on her face. He grimaced and pulled her close again. "It could have been a lot worse." Her voice was muffled by his clothing and barely audible, but he couldn't miss the implication behind her words.

Zia drew back again and walked over to the windows. She propped them open to allow a cool, salty breeze to float into the stuffy room. Flames crackled in the grate despite the summery night and the bed was piled up with blankets. Apparently someone wasn't convinced that Edmund's speedy recovery was entirely genuine. Shaking her head, she removed several layers of the bedding and used the water jug on the bedside table to extinguish the fire. Edmund watched her, mesmerised as he often was by her natural poise and grace.

"What are you staring at?" She asked the question without lifting her eyes from the material in her arms as she carried it over to the wardrobe and began to fold it.

Edmund's hand automatically reached for the back of his neck and his fingers tangled in the hair there as he felt his cheeks flush with heat. "N-nothing."

She glanced up at him from beneath her eyelashes, catching him blushing before he could turn away. A strange sensation started in her stomach and spread all the way down her arms and legs into the ends of her fingers and toes. Suddenly she couldn't take her eyes off him as he headed towards the adjoining room. Before she knew what she was doing, she had followed him into the bathroom and was leaning against the doorframe as he poured some water from a kettle into the bathtub.

"I could have you arrested for intruding on my privacy," he said matter-of-factly.

"Seems a little extreme," she responded. She pushed off from the doorway and took the kettle from him. "Here, let me."

Edmund obligingly perched on the edge of the bathtub, no longer bothering to disguise his staring. He enjoyed the way her cheeks gradually changed from a soft peach to a delicate pink. He reached out to trace his fingertip down her arm, tilting his head as a trail of goosebumps followed the path of his touch. Her movements were hasty as she retreated to fetch a towel and she didn't look at him as she arranged it neatly on the floor next to the tub.

"Does it bother you?" he ventured shyly.

"Does what bother me?"

"This." He retraced the pattern on her arm and she shivered. "Why do you react like that?"

"It feels instinctive. I don't know why, no one's ever done that to me before."

"But it's a good feeling?"

"I think so. It tickles a little." He moved towards her again, but she quickly stood up. "Get in the bath before the water gets too cold."

She left the room and quickly closed the door. The heat in her face was creeping into her neck and her heart had suddenly begun to beat heavier and louder than a war drum. A quick check in the mirror revealed hectic pink spots on her cheeks and a too-bright sparkle in her eyes. When Edmund emerged from the bathroom she was leaning halfway out the window in the hope that the air might calm the furious blush, but her efforts were undone when she turned around and saw him gaping at her.

"What were you -? Never mind, probably best not to ask." He grinned lopsidedly and she didn't know whether to hide her face or throw a cushion at his head.

In the end she opted for neither and instead busied herself with turning down his bed whilst he wandered around and rubbed his hair with a towel. He was dressed in only a thin linen nightshirt and trousers; his lithe body silhouetted through the fabric whenever he passed the lit lamp on the desk at the right angle.

"You're not thinking of staying here all night?"

"I – I can go now if you want…" she said, a little taken aback.

"No! No, that's not what I meant…" He ran a hand through his damp hair, leaving it sticking up like a duck's tail at the back. "I just meant if you want to leave you can, don't feel obliged to stay. It's getting late and I daresay we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

She started to edge reluctantly towards the door. "Are you sure you don't need anything else?"

"Well… You don't _have_ to go yet…"

She stopped, looking at him hopefully. "Yes?"

Edmund looked around the room and spotted the stack of books on his desk – the ones Ivy had brought for Zia to occupy herself with whilst keeping watch over him. "I can read to you if you like." She nodded and he picked the book at the top of the pile. "Wait," he said as she moved towards the armchair. He gestured timidly in the general direction of the bed. "Come and sit with me?"

"Aren't there rules about that sort of thing?" she asked doubtfully. "If Peter…"

"Peter won't find out," he assured her. "Come over here."

She happily climbed onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows. Edmund tucked her under his arm like a baby bird, opened the book and began to read. Her head rested just under his ear and if she craned her neck a little her nose could almost brush the underside of his chin. A faint line of dark hair shadowed the curve of his jaw. She reached up to run her finger along it and he abruptly stopped reading.

"Sorry," she apologised, withdrawing her hand.

He gave the slightest shake of his head, giving her little time to be confused before softly touching his lips to hers. A niggling something in the back of his mind protested, reminding him that Zia was right, there _were_ rules – rules that frowned very seriously upon this sort of intimacy between a king and his servant. But, he argued, Zia wasn't his servant and he had already trampled the kingdom's expectations into the dirt for the time being.

"The rules be damned," he said aloud before kissing her again.

He felt her relax under his touch and her barely-contained enthusiasm as her lips moved against his. Somewhere in the depths of his foggy brain was the fear that someone would walk in and catch them; some suspicious servant wondering why Zia hadn't yet left the King's chambers or Peter wanting to finalise military plans before tomorrow. All of that was swallowed into oblivion when her hands reached up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer even as they both gasped for air.

Under Edmund's clouded eyes, Zia was suddenly very aware that her dress had somehow been pushed up to her thighs and barely covered her undergarments. She tried to wriggle it back down but her waist and hips were trapped under Edmund's body. He realised what she wanted and rolled off her, smoothing the fabric back over her knees whilst trying very hard not to let his fingers brush her skin.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Not even a little bit."

She traced the jut of his cheekbone with her thumb and smiled. "You're quite the gentleman."

He shrugged off the compliment. "It's part of my job."

"Do you think we should stop?" she asked tentatively, noticing how very little space there was between their bodies.

He eyed her seriously. "Do you want to stop?"

"I – no, I'm just…"

He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. "If you're worried about anyone finding out, I have the authority to have even the worst secret covered up."

"I just think we might be rushing things," she admitted. "I mean, we've not known each other for long and we're not officially courting or anything."

He snorted. "I think we can make an exception in that respect. Our whole relationship hasn't exactly complied with social etiquette. But if it makes you feel better we can start officially courting first thing tomorrow."

"Then ride into battle side by side?" She blew hair out of her eyes. "You're right, we _are_ a special case. Besides, I think the whole castle should know we're doing something resembling courting by now, even if we don't make an official announcement."

A light shudder rippled the muscles in his arms. "I personally can't think of anything worse than announcing one's feelings for someone in front of a room full of people."

"Peter doesn't seem to mind," Zia pointed out.

"Peter goes through at least three girls in a year." He looked down. "I'd like to think what we have between us is something more special."

There it was again, the sensation that flooded her entire body and left a pleasant tingling in its wake. She couldn't prevent a grin from spreading right across her face. Edmund tilted his head to the side, looking for all the world like a confused puppy, and the insistent urge to pull him down into another kiss was impossible to resist.


	24. Ambushed

**Ambushed**

"This is it."

The company came to a grateful halt. Riders pulled on reins and foot soldiers curled and uncurled their toes to encourage the blood to flow again. Only the Centaurs in the group didn't seem to mind that they had been marching since noon without a moment of rest – Peter insisted it would be better to reach the fortress whilst it was still light to avoid ambush. No one had dared argue - they could sense his mood deteriorating every time he glanced over at his brother and saw Zia riding by his side. Edmund had spent most of the journey with his eyes on her instead of where he was going.

This was the first time Zia had seen the fortress from the outside. The wall facing the small army was constructed from jet black stone. The huge doors seemed closed tightly enough to have not been opened in years. Aside from the foul stench of rotting meat there was nothing to suggest that the place was inhabited. Behind the fortress rose the mountains of Ettinsmoor, half cast into shadow by the sun's dying rays. They were still a long way off but the stronghold somehow seemed menacing. Beyond them lay the Wild Lands, where none of the company had ever ventured. They did not trust the countries north of the Narnian borders – it was rumoured that Giants and other foul things tramped across the barren wastelands behind the mountains.

Peter studied the southern face of the fortress with a grim expression. As the light began to fade, the ramparts became thick with guards. The company lingered some distance away behind the relative safety of a ridge topped with a scattering of coarse bushes. For how long they would remain thus, Peter couldn't guess. He had been through enough dealings with Minotaurs and their comrades to know they weren't as stupid as they looked. There remained the disturbing thought that they would be spotted and surrounded before dawn.

Motioning to Edmund, Peter descended from his horse and the two brothers went aside from the rest of the group. "It was a mistake to come here with darkness so near at hand," Edmund said in a low voice.

"I realise that now," Peter admitted. He cast a worried glance at the scurrying black shapes that seemed to have swarmed the entire fortress like ants on an anthill. "But we can't tell everyone to turn back. What kind of leadership would that demonstrate?"

"We won't be safe as long as we stay here. Our position is far too out in the open for my liking. But I agree there can be no turning back. A retreat may not go unnoticed. Perhaps I could take a small group away to scout around the area?"

"They would kill you on sight," Peter said grimly. "No one goes anywhere tonight. If we send a party forward to the fortress it's most likely they'll be shot before they're three feet away from us. We have to remain under cover as well as we can until morning."

Edmund shook his head. "I don't like the idea of waiting here all night one bit. But I suppose we have little choice. We're too far from the cover of trees."

"Send word to the troops they are to rest and set up a watch. Our eyes must be kept on our enemies at all times."

The atmosphere surrounding the soldiers was one of tense disquiet as horses were unsaddled and bed rolls were laid out on the grass. No one dared speak in tones above a whisper, if they needed to speak at all. No fires were lit; the evening meal was cold and disheartening. Afterwards the Fauns hastily huddled beneath their blankets to ward off the chill that had little to do with the temperature. Even the Centaurs were uneasy; they stood in a large group and kept their eyes warily on the sky, their tails swishing. Occasionally they sent nervous glances towards the peak of the ridge over which the ominous walls loomed. The rest tried to ignore the tangible presence of evil, but they may as well have tried to ignore the sound of their own troubled heartbeats in their ears.

Zia and Tigran took the third watch when night had descended and darkness hung all about them. The fortress would have completely blended in with the shadows if it had not been for the burning torches set at regular intervals along the ramparts. The uneasy rustling of bodies tossing and turning on the rough ground seemed to echo disconcertingly in the stillness. The two Dryads crouched near the top of the ridge, angling themselves so as to get as clear a view as possible through the hedge.

"I'd wager they keep a particularly close eye on this place," Tigran muttered. "Even brutes like them surely could not be so stupid as to leave such an obvious defence point for attackers unguarded. If it were up to me we'd have marched right up to the gate hours ago."

"Edmund and Peter know what they're doing," Zia told him. His negativity was making her uneasy. "I know it's not easy for you, but please trust them."

Tigran's tone suddenly became bitter. "Despite the outward similarities we are two separate races as different as night and day. Our relationship with the Kings and Queens goes no deeper than alliances in times of great peril."

Zia turned away from him. "I know what you're trying to say and I'm telling you not to waste your breath. I've made my choice."

"You choose to go against your very nature?" Tigran demanded. "When was the last time you walked barefoot among the roots of trees? When was the last time you slept in their boughs or sheltered from the wind in their hollows?"

"Stop it."

Tigran gave a violent shake of his head. "This isn't right, Zia. You and I both know that if you had never got yourself mixed up with these Humans you would have never been captured." He paused and dropped his voice. "And maybe Breejit would still be alive."

"You have no right to tell me what I should and should not do!" she hissed.

"I'm only asking you to consider your options. It doesn't take a prophet to see that you're not happy in your current situation."

"Our watch is over," she said curtly, getting to her feet. Her hand moved to her throat; the shape metal was familiar against her fingertips but did little to ease the tension in her stomach. She turned away before Tigran could see the shadow of doubt flit across her face and stalked down the hill to wake the next watchmen.

* * *

A cool breeze drifted down from the mountains and swirled searchingly around the fitfully sleeping soldiers, nipping and scratching and working its way under blankets until a good portion of the party was awake and grumbling. Several of them reached around to remove small rocks that had become embedded in their backs and some scratched at the tiny bugs that were indulging in a midnight snack on their heads and arms.

Edmund was one of the first to fully recover his wits. He made his way up the side of the ridge to peer through the bushes, one hand lightly caressing the hilt of his sword. The two watchmen on the ridge were huddled close together, their eyes wide though they tried to mask their discomfort. Edmund relieved them of their duty seeing as there were now plenty of eyes anxiously scanning the surroundings. A figure crept up on his right side and he started before he realised who it was. Tigran had been unable to get much rest since returning from his watch; the general aura of the place made him restless.

"There is great evil here," he commented, gazing out in the same direction as Edmund. "Perhaps greater than you anticipate."

"Meaning?"

Edmund's clipped tone seemed to go unnoticed. Tigran's voice was low and husky and he didn't look at Edmund as he spoke. "These creatures once served the White Witch. I have heard rumours that she is not truly vanquished, but is merely gathering the scraps of her power and biding her time. It has been said she is preparing to return."

Edmund was glad the darkness hid his shudder. "These are only rumours," he said in his best businesslike voice. "We can't go around believing whispers bred from fear."

"It may yet be many years before she is powerful enough to resume solid form," Tigran continued regardless. "But the creatures that were once loyal to her will do anything that might aid her. Also…" He paused, watching Edmund from the corners of his eyes. "The rumours say they have received instruction to kill you and your family. I believe they have already made an attempt on your life."

Edmund's hand automatically closed around the hilt of his sword. The comfort and familiarity of the movement was lost amongst his racing thoughts. He began to have serious doubts about the sanity of Peter's plan to arrange a truce with the remnants of the White Witch's army. If they were granted entrance to the fortress they would instantly become sitting targets.

"We have to draw them out," Tigran was saying, "Lure them from their hiding place and fight them on open ground. When the fortress is unguarded that will be our chance to search it for any trace of the Witch."

"Why should I believe you? How do I know these are not all lies that come from your mouth?"

"Edmund!"

The shout pierced the still night and suddenly everything was chaos. Calls for arms and the dreadful screech of swords hastily drawn from scabbards were drowned out by a tremendous roar. A terrible dark shape hurtled out of the blackness; it snorted and bellowed and made wild grabs for the troops as they scrambled to escape its crushing feet.

The Minotaur towered above the carnage, taller than any creature that had ever been seen in Narnia. The entire expanse of its torso was covered with sheets of tough leather and metal, forming a sort of crude breastplate. Its legs and forearms were clad in a similar fashion. It carried no weapon and all Edmund could think as he stared transfixed at its huge, thickly muscled frame was that he didn't much like the idea of avoiding devastating blows from an axe five times as large as those of the regular-sized Minotaurs. Judging by this Minotaur's shabby overall ensemble and lack of defence, it appeared it had been sent out in a hurry. At least they had managed the element of surprise, although that didn't seem to matter much anymore.

Edmund spotted Zia trying to herd some of the Dryads to safety whilst simultaneously loading her bow. The Fauns and Centaurs who were armed formed hurried ranks and prepared to charge the beast, but a cry from Peter held them still. Edmund and Tigran rushed to join their respective kinsmen as the Minotaur lurched and tossed its great head from side to side.

"It's looking for something!" cried a voice.

"Or _someone_!" another helpfully added.

"Hold your ground!" Peter bellowed as some closest to the beast tried to surreptitiously shuffle backwards.

Edmund watched the Dryads regroup and take up vantage positions on the ridge. Tigran was in the front line, his hand raised ready to give the signal. The Minotaur had not yet shown any signs of attack, although it turned its head at Peter's shout as though it recognised his voice. Its yellow eyes glinted amidst its shaggy fur and it gave another earth-shattering bellow that caused even the most resolute of the warriors to clap their hands over their ears.

"What's it waiting for?" Someone voiced the question on everyone else's minds.

"We should kill it now!" Edmund called towards his brother.

"I will not be the first to attack!" Peter shouted back. "It may not intend to harm us at all."

It seemed everyone but Peter heard the folly in that statement. Edmund glanced at his brother and saw only the hard lines of Peter's impassive profile. Blowing steam from its nostrils, the Minotaur swung its whole body in the direction of Peter. Several ranks were forced to stagger back, resulting in a brief confusion during which the Minotaur finally leapt.

The great beast barrelled straight into the front line, knocking most of it to the floor and prompting the ranks behind to rush to their comrades' aid. The strength of the Minotaur was unrivalled by almost half of their small army. Many were crushed by its powerful hooves and it suffocated many more with its meaty hands. No one could get close enough to its stampeding feet to drive their swords through its coarse fur. The volley of arrows sent by the Dryads on the hill seemed merely to annoy it until one well-placed arrow struck home right in the centre of one huge yellow eye. The bellow of pain was loud enough to split the bark of the trees at the edge of Western Wood several miles away.

Now that it was blind in one eye and disorientated from the pain, the Minotaur's hooves became treacherous, flailing wildly as it tried to prevent itself from falling under the wrath of the next rain of arrows. It rushed forward a few paces, tripped and teetered sideways in an almost comical way before raising its imposing fists and making another swipe for the infantry. Several were knocked off their feet and sent flying into the air. The movement seemed to further impede the Minotaur's ability to stay upright and it pitched forwards so that the foremost ranks narrowly avoided being impaled on its wicked horns.

"Unbalance it as it tries to stand straight!" Edmund commanded, rolling to his knees after diving out of the way of the beast's head.

"Aim for its head and chest!" Tigran ordered the archers.

The next arrow barrage succeeded in causing the Minotaur to topple backwards and it was instantly surrounded by the remaining soldiers who could still stand. The beast roared and thrashed but somehow they managed to climb its fur and stab their blades repeatedly into its great muscled chest through the gaps in its poorly-fashioned armour. It gave one last shudder that caused its passengers to sprawl on their faces and was finally still.

* * *

Zia barely remembered what happened next. There was a scramble to gather the wounded and the Dryads and able Centaurs set about doing what they could to heal them. Having only basic knowledge in this area, Zia found she was of little use. Instead she hurried to scrape together a few ingredients to make a rudimentary type of herbal tea. It had no kind of healing power, but it was better than nothing. Once it was brewing in a pot over a small fire, she picked her way over prone bodies and healers crouching beside them and went to find Edmund.

Having been in the front line of the fight, Edmund had suffered a deep gash to the leg and several nasty bruises. He lay on his back whilst a healer bent over his profusely bleeding leg and pushed him down every time he tried to sit up and insist it was only a scratch.

"Sometimes I think you're too heroic for your own good," Zia said, kneeling beside him. She winced when she saw the wound. "That looks painful."

"It's nothing," Edmund said, although a whimper escaped between his clenched teeth when the healer wiped at the edge of the cut with a cloth. "You're not hurt, are you?" he asked her with concern.

"I'm fine. Honest, look." She showed him her arms when he didn't look convinced. Aside from her face and arms being covered in scratches from their rapid ascent of the ridge she was unhurt. "You guessed we would be ambushed, didn't you?"

A pained expression crossed Edmund's face that had little to do with his injuries. "I should have insisted Peter take us to safer ground."

"Don't start blaming yourself," said Zia, taking his hand carefully between both of hers. "It's because of you and Peter that so many of us are alive. You kept your heads when faced with a creature of a race that causes enough trouble without being oversized."

"They know we're here," he said gravely. "I doubt it will be long before they send more soldiers out to drive us away or kill us where we stand."

"We wouldn't stand a chance against a second attack in our current state," Zia agreed. "They're not going to give us time to assemble a proper army or to organise a counter-attack."

At that moment, Peter materialised at the shoulder of Edmund's healer. He appeared to be unharmed save a slight limp, and when they asked about it he flatly denied it was anything serious.

"We must retreat as soon as enough men are able to walk," he said to Edmund. "The horses we had have all fled save Philip and Seren. They cannot carry all of the wounded and the dead back to Cair Paravel. We must leave the bodies here, and those who can use their legs must carry those who cannot."

"We will not be left to retreat peacefully," Edmund pointed out. "A couple of Fauns have reported signs of an army being assembled by the front gate of the fortress. They will be sent after us as soon as our backs are turned."

"What other choice do we have?" Peter exclaimed. "If we retreat we'll be followed and if we stay we'll be slaughtered. I'd rather give my men the slimmest chance of survival than order them to stand around and await their deaths."

"I have an idea," Zia offered. The two arguing Kings seemed not to hear her. In fact, they had all but forgotten her presence as they wracked their brains for a plan that wouldn't involve the imminent massacre of the survivors. She released Edmund's hand and stood up. The kettle would have boiled by now.

The tea she offered was accepted gratefully. As she went round handing it out she bumped into Tigran and almost upset the kettle. He took one look at her face and said, "We cannot leave it up to them to decide what to do."

Zia rolled her eyes and started to turn away. Tigran grabbed her arm. "Let me guess, they're trying to decide whether fight or flight would be the best option?"

Zia said nothing.

"Look Zia, I've had my fair share of experience in battle. I'm older than you think I am. In fact I was among the warriors who faced Jadis when she first became a threat to Narnia."

Zia blinked in surprise but still she kept her mouth shut.

"Dryad warriors trust and respect me; they would be glad to follow through with any plan I present to them so long as it is reasonable." He peered closely at her face. "Something tells me you have an idea to take this matter into your own hands."

"I just thought that a few of the Dryads could strike out for the fortress and attempt to reason with the inhabitants as was the original plan, if only to provide a distraction for them and to give Peter a chance to call for reinforcements."

"When you say 'the Dryads', do you include yourself?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "I don't want to risk getting on Peter's bad side again and I need to stay and look after Edmund."

Tigran looked at her from under his eyelashes, his eyes glinting. "It seems you're not quite everything I was told you are."

"What? What were you told I was?"

He nonchalantly dug his big toe into the grass and looked up at the paling sky. "The Zia I was told about would already be knocking on the front door by now."

Zia's cheeks flushed with heat. "That would be foolish."

He grinned again, flashing a set of straight white teeth. "Quite. But not if I was there with you."

She studied him for a long moment, working out the implications of what he was saying. The mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the spot where Edmund lay. Peter was beside him and they both looked tense; apparently they had not come to a conclusion about what was to be done. Each minute that ticked by brought the threat of another attack creeping steadily closer. Zia knew she could not sit by and do nothing when she could at least make an attempt to save the remaining soldiers' lives. They too bore anxious expressions and it was clear they knew the extent of the jeopardy they were in as long as they remained where they were in so few and damaged numbers.

Her fingers curled around her bow and she fixed Tigran with a determined stare. "Alright, let's try."

They stole silently away in a group of six. By the time anyone noticed they were gone they were but faint specks marching doggedly towards the heavy doors of the fortress.

* * *

"By the Mane," Peter groaned, dropping his head in his hands. "What silly idea has that girl got in her head this time?"

"What?" Edmund demanded upon hearing his brother's sigh. He tried to sit up but the loss of blood combined with the medicine he'd been administered made his head woozy.

Peter turned to look at his brother despairingly. "It seems Zia has finally gone mad. She and five other Dryads are headed for the fortress."

Edmund slumped down onto the ground and pressed his palms into his eyes. "Of all the…" He suddenly looked up. "Can we not stop them?"

"They are too far away," Peter informed him. "I dare not draw any more attention to them lest we are all killed."

"She wouldn't walk straight to her death just to be considered a martyr," Edmund mused. "She must have a specific purpose in mind."

"I'm willing to bet all the collective attention inside that fortress will be focused on them. If they let them live long enough to allow them inside it may buy us enough time to make a retreat."

"If we retreat we sacrifice them to their deaths. You know I won't allow that."

"We may not have enough time to gather reinforcements. It would be no use storming that place without several thousand troops at hand."

A determined hardness set Edmund's features. "We have to at least give them a chance." He put a hand to his forehead. "Besides, whatever's in this medicine is making me dizzy. I won't be fit to ride for at least another half hour."

Knowing full well Edmund would find some way to ride were he only half conscious, Peter shook his head. "Why can you not just do as you're told?" he cried with fond amusement. Edmund grinned in reply.

They both looked back towards the fortress just in time to see the huge doors close with a bang that was audible even across the half-mile distance.

"I just hope she knows what she's doing."

* * *

**A/N:** Just to say a HUGE thank you to anyone who has reviewed/alerted/favourited this story so far. You guys are awesome! And to all of you who are silently reading and hoping I won't notice you haven't left a review, I know where you live.

Seriously, it doesn't have to be much. It can be one word if you like. Reviews make me a very happy bunny. Please?


	25. Beneath the Surface

**Beneath the Surface**

The fortress grew bigger and infinitely more imposing as they approached it. The air grew thick with all manner of unpleasant smells until every breath they took threatened to choke them. Zia was left wondering if the drugs she'd been administered during her last visit had dulled her senses - she couldn't remember them ever being assaulted with anything this foul.

Tigran's eyes slid over to her as she grimaced. "Are you sure you want to do this? No one will judge you if you turn back."

She shook her head, pressing her hand over her nose. "It's a little hard to be frightened of something that smells this bad."

The doors loomed up before them; thick, solid and impassive. There was a great deal of shuffling and clinking of metal coming from the other side. Zia glanced nervously at Tigran. His face was a carefully composed expressionless mask. The other four Dryads looked at each other nervously, but Zia could see they trusted Tigran. Would they be there if they didn't? One of them, a young male, caught Zia's eye and returned her reassuring smile. The five of them jumped when Tigran raised his fist and banged loudly on the wood.

The shuffling didn't cease, but a gruff voice demanded, "What do you want?"

Before Tigran could speak, there was some kind of scuffle and a different voice spoke. The words sent a chill down Zia's spine. "The General is expecting you."

Tigran raised his eyebrows as though this was a pleasant surprise.

The doors opened inwards, surprisingly smoothly for things so massive, and a creature that looked like a warthog but moved around on its two hind legs stepped into view. He regarded the little group with amusement (if indeed he could experience human emotions) in his tiny black eyes.

"The whelps sent you, I suppose?"

It took Zia a few moments to realise he was talking about Edmund and Peter. Tigran, however, didn't skip a beat. "We come of our own accord. We wish to discuss an offer of peace with your … General, was it?"

The warthog squinted down at Tigran. "You're the one."

Tigran blinked. "Excuse me?"

By now some other creatures had gathered to peer at the visitors. They were all clad in some form of armour that, in some cases, was so ill-made that it barely fit at all, but hung off their strangely shaped bodies in a comical manner. This added to the fact that some of their faces resembled those of small rodents or toads and the overall effect was fairly ridiculous. Their wickedly sharp weapons countered the humour very effectively.

The warthog, who seemed to be some kind of overseer, waved them away like troublesome pests. "What're you lot gawking at? We're to pursue the whelps and their pathetic little army as soon as the General gives the word. There'll be punishment for any scumbag who isn't ready!"

The soldiers scrambled away and the warthog turned back to them. Zia glared at him, but inside she had begun to panic. If they didn't do something quickly, Edmund, Peter and the rest were as good as dead.

"Take us to him," she demanded in a loud voice.

Tigran gave her a look that clearly said she was supposed to leave the talking to him. The warthog, on the other hand, gestured for them to follow with only a fleeting suspicious glance in her direction. The crowd parted to let them through and Zia made a conscious effort to stare straight ahead. They made their way through the courtyard – which seemed full to the brim with soldiers – and up a short flight of steps. Then they were faced with another set of doors. These ones were decidedly grander than the others, clearly designed to signify that someone of great importance resided behind them. They stood wide open to allow people to come freely in and out. The small party were passed by several creatures - less evil-looking than the ones outside - with their arms (or whatever appendage they possessed instead) full of gleaming metal. Several glances were thrown their way; some were suspicious, some curious, and a few were outright sneers.

Zia kept close to Tigran's side. She tried to remember the way they had come, but the maze of corridors and stairs quickly made her head spin.

"How do you know we're not being led straight into a trap?" she whispered to Tigran. The thought had plagued her ever since they had arrived, and caused cold fear to twist her stomach into knots.

"I've planned for that." He said it as though it was the most basic thing in the world. "Let me give you a little tip: Always assume something is a trap until proven otherwise. Helps keep you alive."

"I'm sure it's not that simple."

He flashed a dark grin. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

When they finally came to a halt, they were instructed to remain in the corridor whilst the warthog spoke with the General. Just in case they tried anything, a couple of guards were summoned to stand on either side of them. The guards were barely taller than Zia, stout and covered with too much pink flesh for their squat frames. Yellowed teeth protruded from their mouths and grey fingernails curled like talons around the handles of their axes. Their snouts were swinish and their squinting eyes reminded Zia of a Mole she had once met, although she doubted they would be as friendly as the Mole had been.

"What are they?" she asked Tigran as quietly as she could.

Surprisingly, it was the male Dryad who had smiled at her earlier that replied. "Boggles." He spat the name out as though it had a vile taste. "They may look stupid and slow, but they have incredible strength. They could cleave one of us in two with an axe as easily as swatting a fly. They also have very good hearing," he added as the Boggle on their left turned to glare at him.

They sat huddled together on the cold stone floor for what seemed like hours. Zia's thoughts refused to move away from the huge army waiting in the courtyard. She hoped against hope that Peter had managed to gather his troops and get away, but something in the back of her mind kept her from believing it. Tigran sat beside her with his head resting against the wall and his eyes closed, looking completely relaxed. She wondered who he was trying to convince that he had everything under control. He certainly wasn't convincing her.

The door that the warthog had disappeared through opened again quite suddenly, causing them all to jump. The warthog grinned menacingly but held up a horrible, gnarled hand when they started to rise.

"You." He pointed to Tigran with a dirt-encrusted fingernail. "You are to come with me. The rest of you will wait until you are summoned. In the meantime, you are to enjoy the finest sampling of the General's hospitality." He motioned to the two guards. "Take them to the dining hall and tell the kitchen staff to prepare something … suitable."

"Wait!" Zia cried, struggling against the hand that held her wrist in a death grip. "Why him? What do you want with him?"

Tigran turned to her with a tight smile. "Do as you're told, Zia. There's a good girl."

Too shocked to form a retort, Zia could only stare as she was dragged roughly away. She saw the warthog open the door for Tigran and usher him inside, then they rounded a corner and he was lost from view.

* * *

Peter paced back and forth, pressing his fingers to his temples to soothe his growing headache. It had been almost an hour and a half since Zia had left and they were still no closer to making any kind of move. Edmund was now sitting up with his injured leg stretched out before him. It was wrapped in white linen from his shin to the middle of his thigh, making it impossible for his knee to bend. He scratched at the bandage irritably, frowning down at it as though it was the cause of all their problems.

A single question hovered in the air between the two kings: what was going on inside the fortress?

"This is ridiculous," Peter said finally, throwing his hands in the air. "If it weren't for her stupidity we would be halfway home by now."

Edmund didn't look up. "Don't blame her. She was only trying to help."

"Yes, but now we're stranded with an army lurking just on the horizon because you're being so infuriatingly _stubborn_."

"And don't take it out on me. This was _your_ idea!"

"But _you_ insisted on bringing _her_ along. Now look where we are!"

"If I could stand," Edmund said in a low voice. "You would have my sword at your throat for insulting either of us."

Peter put a hand over his eyes. Guilt weighted Edmund's chest as his brother's shoulders sagged. "I didn't mean it…" Edmund started to apologise.

Peter smiled wearily. "I know. But we really do need to work out what we're going to do about this situation we're in."

Edmund nodded. "She's alive, Pete. I can feel it."

"Well, that's a start. Can you feel how long she intends to hang around before we can leave? Is she planning on getting captured again? Do I need to organise a rescue party?"

Edmund shot him an icy glare. "Stop it. Nothing you say is going to change the fact that I would risk my life for her."

"By risking your life, you in turn risk the lives of those around you. Can you live with so many deaths on your conscience just for the sake of one girl?"

"I never asked for anyone's help. I would do the same if it were you or the girls."

"Of course you would." Peter couldn't hide the note of affection in his voice. "But, as I'm sure you know, there's a very fine line between bravery and stupidity. You have crossed it several times already."

Edmund sighed heavily. By the Mane, he hated giving up. But this was one of those increasingly frequent times when his brother made an inescapable point. "What do we do, then?"

"You're leaving it up to me?"

"Do you see any other High Kings around here?"

Peter chuckled. The sound came as such a relief to Edmund that he felt his entire upper body relax. "Stay here and rest. I'll sort everything out."

A short while later the army was ready to move off. Peter hated to leave the bodies of their dead lying on the grass, but all he could do to deliver them into Aslan's country was bury their bodies under a mound and offer prayers for their safe passage. Once that was done, he sent orders for the able-bodied soldiers to arrange transportation for the wounded – the Centaurs were happy to oblige, just on this one occasion. The remainder of the Dryads glanced in the direction that Tigran had vanished. They were unhappy about leaving him to his ill fate, so Peter granted them leave to linger on the outskirts of the woods for a while in case of his return. Peter helped Edmund onto Philip's back, which took far less time than anticipated due to Philip's endless patience. Seren, too, stood by as they loaded as much baggage onto her as she could carry.

Eventually everything was ready. As Peter made his way back over to Philip, Edmund dropped his eyes to the Horse's neck. He felt his cheeks flush and hoped his brother wouldn't notice the direction in which his gaze had been fixed. Peter's fair hair was dishevelled and stuck to his temples. His face was a little pink and blotchy, but his eyes were bright and happy.

"Ready to go?" he asked cheerfully, rubbing Philip's neck.

"Yes," Edmund said, forcing a smile.

Peter regarded him for a moment and, when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly tender. "She'll be okay Ed. Tigran will look after her."

A familiar feeling swelled in Edmund's chest. Suddenly, he and Peter were children again. Peter was wiping away his tears and assuring him that everything would be alright – he would be there the next time the bullies picked on him. The same warm, brotherly tone that had been in his voice then was back. His smile was one of the most genuine and loving Edmund had ever received from him.

"Pete…" Edmund called to his brother as he started to turn away. He felt the need to thank him in some way, but there wasn't much he could do from the back of a horse.

A look of understanding came into Peter's eyes. He rested his hand on Edmund's knee, briefly, and then lifted it away again. Then he moved off to the front of the group to walk beside Oreius. Edmund took one last longing look behind him, and the party turned homeward.

* * *

The room behind the door turned out to be some kind of office. The walls were lined with bookshelves, but somehow Tigran doubted any of the books had ever been touched. A huge window framed by embroidered curtains was the second thing he noticed. The view beyond the glass was beautiful. He could see right across the marshes to the mountains rising up like proud warriors, their peaks touching the cornflower blue sky.

Unfortunately, the view to the left of the window was a lot less appealing. A huge, shaggy creature sat behind a large desk with its mud-caked hooves resting on the wood. A smile – if it could be called that – appeared on its ugly face when Tigran's eyes fell upon it. The door closed behind him with a soft click. The warthog stationed himself in front of it, arms folded and legs planted apart. There was no getting out that way, unless Tigran was prepared for things to get very messy.

Neither Tigran nor the General spoke. Tigran was sure they were engaged in some sort of stare-off. The Minotaur was sizing him up; not that there was much point – he probably thought he could snap Tigran's neck as easily as breaking a tooth pick.

"I've heard a lot about you." The Minotaur's voice was so deep that every word was a growl.

"Really? I've never heard anything about you."

The General shook his head in amusement. "Apparently you made short work of breaking those plant-girls out of my dungeons. I'm impressed."

"Most kind of you," Tigran murmured. He stepped up to the desk and ran his finger along the varnished wood. The desk was huge – he wondered how many trees had had to be felled to construct it. "But I'm almost positive you didn't bring me here just to express your admiration."

"You have a quick tongue," the General observed. "No doubt it's hereditary. Although a rare skill such as you have with a sword must be learned from somewhere. Who was your tutor?"

"I come from a clan of Dryads living in Western Wood. I learned everything I know from them."

"Those woods are full of nature spirits. What was the name of your leader?"

"Why do you want to know?" Tigran snapped, growing tired of the interrogation.

"I'm merely curious," the General replied, in a tone that suggested that was far from the truth.

Tigran cocked an eyebrow. "You're not the only one. I want to know what you and your gang of brutes are planning and what you want with the Kings and Queens."

The General laughed. It was a deep, rumbling laugh that sounded like booming thunder. Tigran immediately hated it. "I'm not sure I appreciate your calling us brutes. We are merely humble servants. As for what we're planning, you must be one of us to know that, and you're not."

"Is that so? Why am I here, then?"

"I want you to join my army."

Tigran jolted as though he'd been shot in the chest. It was very difficult to truly take him by surprise - he had always been proud of that - but he was certain that his shock was justified this time. The only word that would come out steadily was, "Why?"

The General raised his meaty arms. "Was I not complimentary enough of your skills? Would you like me to continue?"

"No," he said quickly. "If that's all you want from us, what are you going to do with my companions?"

"I believe it's a wonderful stroke of luck that charming redhead has made another appearance," the General replied with the hint of a leer in his eyes.

"You think she's charming?" Tigran screwed his nose up. "I suppose, if you get past the fact she's so reckless it borders on frustrating, and she seems to know so little about the world that you feel obligated to protect her from her own naiveté -" He snapped his mouth shut with a clack.

The entertained expression hadn't budged from the Minotaur's face. Tigran found it a little disconcerting that Minotaurs could manage to look anything except angry.

He cleared his throat. "Why should I accept your offer?"

The Minotaur shrugged, as though the conversation had grown dull. "You seem like a smart boy, work it out."

Tigran snorted at the word 'boy'. "I'm probably ten times your age."

He made a gesture as though to brush off the comment. "I haven't got all day."

"If I agree, will you let the others go?"

"So we're striking a deal now?"

"Seems that way. How badly do you want me in your army?"

The General sat back, swinging his legs to the floor. "You're a tough man to please. I let your friends go, and in return you get to be my second-in-command. That seems like a one-sided agreement to me."

"But you said yourself you're in awe of my skills," Tigran pointed out, trying to keep his voice from rising in excitement. He could never resist the lure of leadership power. "And from the looks of the rest of your warriors, you could use someone like me to set an example."

"As much as it frustrates me, you're right."

He stood up and walked slowly around the desk. His hooves made resounding clopping sounds on the floor; they echoed in Tigran's head, perfectly with the beat of his own heart. The General extended his huge hand. Tigran tried very hard not to think about what else it had touched as he shook it.

"You must swear allegiance to the Queen before you can officially join us, but I'm sure that won't be a problem."

Tigran shook his head and grinned. "No problem at all."

* * *

Zia and the four Dryads were escorted mercilessly into a spacious, sparsely-furnished room. It was occupied solely by a huge dining table and a total of twenty-two chairs. A huge chandelier, hideous in its bulk, hung from the ceiling directly over the centre of the table. It seemed far too heavy to remain attached to the thin chain and immediately cast an uneasy atmosphere over the room, lest it suddenly come crashing down on their heads. The walls were hung with a heavy-looking material. It was the colour of blood and elaborately embroidered all over in gold. The patterns were all harsh lines and sharp points, as though they had been carved into the material with a knife. The window offered a meagre view of the other side of the fortress across an inner courtyard much larger than the one inside the gates.

Five places had already been set at the table, but there was no sign of any form of cutlery. Zia grimaced as a horrific mental picture of what meals were like filled her head. The Boggles practically pushed them down into chairs and one of them disappeared, presumably to bark orders at the kitchen staff. Zia was unsure whether they could even speak; they seemed only to be able to utter guttural grunts and snorts.

Three of the other Dryads – Zia only now noticed they were all male - were looking around at each other with frightened eyes. The fourth – the one seated next to Zia - was staring down at his knees. His lips were moving rapidly as though in prayer. As though sensing her eyes on him, he looked up at her face. Zia glanced round at the rest of the small group; all of their faces wore expressions depicting varying stages of defeat.

"There are only two of them," Zia whispered to her neighbour. "And there are five of us. We could take them down easily!"

"They took all of our weapons," he reminded her, glancing mournfully to the corner where their precious effects had been carelessly dumped. "Even if we got past these two, this place is crawling with hundreds, maybe thousands more. How would we get out?"

His voice was full of despair. Zia ground her teeth in frustration. These were the finest warriors Tigran could find? They had all given in as soon as their captain was no longer present!

"Anything is better than just sitting here waiting," she hissed.

A raspy sound like the clearing of a throat caused her head to jerk up. The Boggle that had remained in the room was standing a few feet to her right, leaning leisurely on his axe. As she watched, he tauntingly ran a yellow claw down the edge of the blade. The gesture alone was enough to make Zia's mouth snap shut and her head tilt down to stare at the scarred tabletop.

When she looked up again there was a large silver platter on the table. It was covered with a silver lid; one of the Boggles was smirking as he stepped forward to lift it off. A fetid stench filled the room, groping down Zia's throat and almost making her gag. Covering her mouth, she gazed in horror at the mound of steaming filth in the centre of the table.

The Boggles began to laugh. It was a squealing, grating sound that hurt Zia's ears, but she daren't cover them - that would mean taking her hand away from her face.

"What's the matter? This stuff's perfect for trees," sneered one of the Boggles. He stuck his finger deep into the pile of muck, and then held it under one of the Dryads' noses. He looked younger than the others and far less experienced. He tried hard not to let his face slip, but the way his features twisted only spurred the Boggle on. He grabbed his chin and tried to force his mouth open, guffawing hideously. The boy's eyes searched the room desperately before landing on Zia's. They were moist and pleading. The sight filled Zia with fresh determination.

"Enough!" she cried. Rage carried her to her feet, and in a moment of surprise both Boggles turned to gawp at her. She looked from one of them to the other, her hands balled into shaking fists. "Leave him alone!"

The Boggles exchanged smirks and laughter, then one of them spoke. "The girl's right, we're supposed to be guarding them, not playing with them."

The second Boggle looked indignant but obeyed. He wiped his finger on his tunic and huffed.

"Make her be quiet," the first added as a lazy afterthought.

Zia tried to duck out of the way as the creature's arms swung for her, but she was just a little too slow. Her shoulders were caught and razor-like nails dug into her flesh. Her arms were wrenched behind her so sharply that she cried out, and something rough sawed at her wrists until she couldn't move them.

"Keep still now, or I'll bind your legs, too," her captor snarled in her ear before shoving her roughly back into the chair.

Looking helplessly down the table, Zia caught the eyes of the tormented boy. His mouth formed a pained but grateful smile before they closed tight. His shoulders were trembling.

Zia's own eyes stung. Desperation and loss were causing moisture to build up in them. She forced her lids not to close; she would not allow the tears to fall. She'd heard somewhere that Human tears tasted salty, and realised she couldn't recall her own tears ever tasting of anything.

All the times she had felt a heart beating in her chest, a stomach trembling in her abdomen, or a pair of lungs burning, those feelings were mere echoes of what she would feel if she were human. Perhaps that was why she had been so drawn to Edmund and the other Pevensies – and Alex – in the first place. They were full of powerful emotion that drove them in whatever they did. Dryads, and other beings of nature, although capable of becoming very old and wise, simply could not contain such fire inside themselves. Watching other beings be so at the mercy of their souls was fascinating, and Zia continued to be enticed into their midst no matter how much time she spent around them. Humans never failed to surprise her.

That single thought brought her mind back to her present predicament: What she needed most now was for Edmund to decide that his feelings for her were more important than whatever orders Peter barked at him and come bursting through the door to rescue them all. But the longer the silence stretched on, the more that hope dwindled. He had let her down before and he could do it again, no matter what he promised.

Hope – another human wonder. It was bewildering to Zia how one emotion could cause people to do often unlikely things: Edmund searching far and wide for her in hope that she would return; Pelerine growing closer to Edmund in the hope of forgetting her heartbreak; Alex setting off for Archenland with hopes of a better life; herself, sitting on the floor of that cold and lonely dungeon, hoping for Edmund to come and save her.

She had never given it much thought before, but the human tendency to rely on simple hope had played a big part in her life since she had met the Pevensies. And now, she decided, definitely wasn't the time to let it go.


	26. Blood Oath

**A/N:** I'm not dead!

Wow. I'm so so sorry it's been so long. I don't even know how I managed to slack off for six months. I'm sorry. Really. If you haven't given up on me yet then I love you and your patience is phenomenal. There definitely won't be a six month wait for the next chapter, I promise.

I love you guys. Don't hate me. Please?

* * *

**Blood Oath**

Tigran was escorted from the office by the same warthog that had shown him in. The creature had remained planted in front of the door throughout the entire exchange Tigran had shared with the General, and as soon as it was over had sprung to its master's side like a huge dog. The General now following Tigran and the warthog from the room, walking so close to Tigran that he felt hot, stinking breath on the back of his neck. He knew without turning around that the Minotaur's hand was on the hilt of the long, curved knife hanging naked from his belt. Distrust gnawed at Tigran's own heart and no amount of anticipation could overshadow it.

The door that the warthog held open for them - with an exaggerated bow to Tigran – was so nondescript that Tigran had automatically dismissed it as the entrance to a storage cupboard. Instead, the door opened onto a seemingly endless tunnel leading forever downwards. The warthog fetched a torch and a steep staircase was revealed. The steps were so narrow and worn that Tigran slipped on the third, nearly tumbling down the stone staircase into the dark depths below. He braced his hand against the wall, but even that did little to help him keep his balance as he hurried to keep his back away from the General's knife.

An archway was at the bottom of the stairs and beyond that more darkness. With a careless gesture from his master, the warthog scurried off with his torch and began lighting candles. The flames that sparked into life were blue in colour, and even from a distance Tigran could sense an odd pulse enveloping them. The candles lit the room enough for the contents to send a chill down Tigran's spine.

A statue stood in the centre of the room, the flickering candles at its feet. It was so tall that the spiked crown atop its head almost brushed the ceiling. It had been carved from stone so pale it was translucent like ice. The candle flames created an eerie blue glow that shimmered and folded around the statue like a rippling cloak. Tigran now noticed that the floor of the room was made of earth, but not the rich, moist earth he was used to. The magic he could feel woven into the room seemed to have sapped all the nutrients and life out of the soil, leaving it dry and cracked. He felt a brief empathetic pang in his chest, but was quickly distracted again by the monstrosity towering over them.

The statue depicted a likeness so accurate that Tigran's knees buckled.

Beside him, the General stooped into a low bow. Tigran stayed frozen to the spot, unable to tear his eyes from the White Witch's piercing stare. "Why have you brought me here?"

The General eyed him smugly as he straightened. "You must swear an oath to your Queen. An oath of blood."

"And if I refuse?" He tried not to choke on the lump of fear forming in his throat. The General drew his knife. The blade glinted wickedly in the candlelight as he caressed it lovingly. The gesture conveyed the message more clearly than a spoken word.

The warthog – who Tigran assumed was the General's henchman – trotted over to stand beside his master. The creature was as tall as Tigran but still a full head shorter than the Minotaur – not including the deadly horns.

"Everything is prepared, sir," the warthog said staring at Tigran with his beetle-like eyes.

"Thank you, Tezrac."

With a sickly sweet smile, the General gestured for Tigran to walk in front of him to the statue. The Witch sat on a stone throne, leaning forwards as though about to leap up and thrust her sceptre straight through the heart of whichever servant had displeased her. She held her infamous weapon in her right hand; the butt rested by her feet (which were covered by the folds of her gown) and the terrible point touched the ceiling far above their heads.

Tezrac directed Tigran to kneel at the foot of the statue. He then placed several candles in a half-circle before him, large enough for the General to stand comfortably inside. The General stepped forward, lifted his knife as though inspecting it and spoke in a low, almost soft tone.

"This blade was forged from the remains of Her Majesty's wand," he told Tigran proudly. "The magic woven into it was broken when that treacherous brat destroyed it, but this blade is like a razor-sharp ice shard. This may hurt a little."

Tigran dug his nails into his palm and spoke through gritted teeth. "Get on with it."

He watched as the General raised the knife above his head, gripping the handle with both hands. His black lips formed a chant in a language that seemed to consist more of grunts and growls than words. The sounds were coarse and guttural and Tigran wanted nothing more than to press his hands over his ears.

Instead, he thought of Zia. Even if the decision he had made was likely to get him killed, at least she wouldn't be harmed. At least he wouldn't have to worry about her safety. That had to count for something.

Pain seared across the palm of his hand. Zia's face splintered into pieces before his eyes to be replaced by his own blood, thick and opaque as tree sap, running over his skin and dripping between his fingers. The General held his wrist tightly, squeezing so the blood splattered the stone at Jadis' feet. He tasted more blood in his mouth and realised he was biting his tongue against a cry. The cut burned as though ice had entered his veins, even though the rest of his hand felt heavy and hot. His head suddenly felt too light, but he managed to remember that Edmund had once been injured by a similar blade to the one now stained with his blood. He felt a vague empathetic connection with the King despite his dislike – brought on by his former betrayal and the way he saw Zia looking at him when she thought no one was watching.

As the pain dulled and his hand began to grow numb, the General spoke again in the same quiet, hypnotic voice.

"Do you swear allegiance to Her Imperial Majesty Jadis, Queen of Narnia?"

Tigran closed his eyes as if doing so would make his next words easier to bear. "I do."

"Will you lay down your life to protect her and carry out any instruction she gives without question?"

He was speaking as though the White Witch were still alive or if they had already brought her back from the dead. The fears that Tigran had expressed to Edmund, only to have them brushed aside, reignited like a fire as it is fed more kindling.

"I will," he breathed afraid to raise his voice lest the trembling of his heart become evident. _Think of Zia._

"If you break this oath you have sworn, this scar will mark you as an enemy and a traitor. You will be cursed, doomed to suffer until Her Majesty takes pity on your miserable existence. Unless she should decide to let you suffer for eternity."

"I'll bear that in mind."

The General stepped out of the circle of candles, accepting a cloth from Tezrac with which to clean Tigran's blood from his precious knife. The warthog stepped towards Tigran with a bandage and dressed his wound. It still bled and throbbed slightly, but the pain had eased to a dull ache that he could easily ignore.

The General tucked his clean knife back into his belt and turned to face them with a smile that was friendlier than before, but Tigran still didn't trust, especially when he announced: "I think it's time to pay a visit to your little friends."

Tezrac hurried to extinguish the candles, using the last to relight his torch, which he held aloft as he led the way back up the steps. Going up was a lot easier than going down, but their pace meant that Tigran again had to drag his hand along the slimy wall for support. They had good reason to hurry; if the army waiting in the courtyard had any hope of catching up with the Kings before they reached the safety of Cair Paravel they would have to set out within the hour.

When they reached the top of the stairs Tezrac extinguished the torch and quickened his pace, trotting noisily through the corridors with Tigran running to keep up. They didn't stop or slow until they were faced with a set of double doors. Here the General pushed Tigran behind him and signalled to the guards. The doors opened outwards to reveal a huge dining table in the centre of a red room. The light of the setting sun came in through a huge window directly opposite the doors, intensifying the red carpet and walls and making the room appear like the mouth of a hideous beast.

The Boggles leaning against the wall on their right stood to attention when they saw the General. At the same moment the Dryads seated at the table cringed low in their chairs. The room stank of fear and animal dung, but that wasn't what made Tigran catch his breath.

"Gentlemen," the General addressed the Boggles in his gruff voice. "Escort our guests to the dungeon."

Like obedient dogs the Boggles lunged forwards and grabbed one of Tigran's soldiers – his friends – in each meaty fist. They struggled so pitifully that Tigran only just stopped himself from shouting an order at them. _You're not their leader any more_.

A choked sound, like someone forcing back a cry, came from the head of the table. Zia struggled against the bonds around her wrists and the chair closest to Tigran rocked so much it almost toppled sideways. Her back was to him – she hadn't even realised he was standing just a few paces behind. He started towards her but the General got there first. He grabbed Zia's chin in his thick fingers, a crudely sweet gesture that turned Tigran's stomach.

"You may have got away this time, my pretty, but don't you worry. We've got plans for your royal friend. He'll be on his way as soon as he finds out we have you here and my army will be waiting for him. Then they'll finish off the rest of that troublesome brood one…by…one."

Zia jerked away from his grasp, her eyes narrowed into slits. "Where's Tigran?" she demanded. "If you've hurt him I swear I'll -"

The General laughed harshly. "Oh, he's alive. See for yourself."

As his massive bulk moved aside Tigran at last got a proper look at Zia. He checked her face and arms for injuries and watched her do the same to him. Her eyes went wide when they fell on his hand.

"What have you done?" She glared at the General with a ferocity that would have done the White Witch proud, tugging at her bonds with more force as if she wanted nothing more than for her fists to connect with the General's furry face.

"It's nothing," Tigran said quickly, hoping she would see the warning in his eyes and not ask too many questions.

The two Boggles still stood a few paces away, a Dryad in each paw. They looked from the General to Zia and back again stupidly. They appeared both bewildered and a little afraid of her.

Tigran turned to the General. "You swore she'd go free," he said in a low voice.

The General's face twisted into an ugly smile. "Words can be false and their meaning easily shattered. However you"- he indicated the cloth tied around Tigran's hand –"swore by blood to serve Her Imperial Majesty throughout this life and possibly the next. I swore no such oath."

Zia had been following the exchange with panic and confusion brimming in her eyes. _Keep quiet_, Tigran silently begged. _Just trust me_.

Of course, his unspoken words were meaningless.

"Tigran would never do such a thing!" she exclaimed. Her fingers twitched, searching for her bow, but the weapon was out of reach, lying at an unnatural angle in the corner behind Tigran. "His allegiance is with the Kings and Queens!"

"Not any more I'm afraid," replied the General as though speaking to a stubborn child. He put his hand on Tigran's shoulder.

Zia turned her wide eyes on him, pleading him to tell her the Minotaur was lying. She looked so young and frightened that his first instinct was to lie to comfort her. The General's nails dug into his skin like needles. He nodded. Zia turned her head away.

"Let her and the others go," he repeated levelly.

"They're the bait."

"I have a better way to get to them," Tigran argued. He really hoped it wasn't obvious that he was lying through his teeth. "You won't need any bait." He glanced down at Zia. Her face remained hidden behind the red curtain of her hair.

The General scratched his chin. "And what is this idea of yours, pray tell?"

"Just trust me." With some effort he arranged his lips into his most convincing smile. It was the smile that persuaded his warriors to follow through with seemingly the most bizarre orders. The General fell for it with far less resistance than Tigran was used to; the cut on his palm provided enough assurance for the Minotaur that Tigran wouldn't do anything reckless.

"Very well." The General signalled to the Boggles, who reluctantly released their captives. The Minotaur himself untied Zia from the chair and presented her bow with a sweeping bow. She snatched it from his grasp, the relief showing on her face when she discovered it was undamaged. Tigran kept his eyes on her, urging her to face him. When she did, he tried to convey the reassurance he longed to express out loud through his eyes.

_Everything's going to be fine, I promise_.

He couldn't tell if she understood, but was able to do nothing more as she and the four other Dryads were ushered out of the dining hall by Tezrac and the two Boggles, leaving Tigran alone with the General and no idea what to do next.


	27. Surprises and Warnings

**Surprises and Warnings**

Darkness closed around the small group of Dryads like a black cloak as they fled from the fortress towards the safety of the forest.Zia kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting to see a dark mass of bodies and metal coming after them. The shadow of the fortress reared up against the mountains and the inky black sky, but remained as still and quiet as if its only inhabitants were ghosts.

Zia led the party deeper and deeper into the woods, through row upon row of trees too afraid of the nearby danger to twitch their branches. The silence made Zia anxious. More than once she found herself wishing Tigran was with them so she wouldn't feel so afraid. But Tigran wasn't there. He had succumbed to the treacherous ways of their enemies and was doomed to serve the White Witch forever. Even in death she had a firm grip on the lands she had stolen. Would Narnia ever be able to shake her hold?

They found their way to a narrow stream bordered by bulrushes that whispered in the breeze. The sound was comforting rather than sinister -nature would be their only friend during the long, cold night.

One of the Dryads - he called himself Brook and seemed the most experienced of Tigran's select group of soldiers - did a swift skirt of the immediate area, simultaneously checking for danger and gathering wood for a fire. Zia and the others picked their way carefully to the bank of the stream and used its clear, cool water to wash away the grime and bad memories they had collected over the past few days.

A pale face broke the surface of the water, making them all jump. The face belonged to a woman; her features were angled and delicate, her skin tinged blue and almost translucent. Shiny dark hair threaded with strips of seaweed tumbled over her shoulders and fanned out under the water.

"Welcome, friends." Her voice was high and musical like the babble of a brook. "My sisters and I do not get many visitors since the fortress was built not far from here, many moons ago. But if you wish to stay and rest, we will gladly watch over you."

The nymph's eyes found Zia. They were as round and black as deep pools. "You must be the one they speak of. The Dryad who stole the heart of a King." Zia felt herself blush as she bowed her head. The nymph drew closer, graciously reaching out her webbed fingers to brush Zia's cheek. Her movements caused barely a ripple to disturb the water's surface.

"Humans can be fickle creatures," she murmured. "You must always remember where your heart truly belongs."

A montage of faces blurred in front of Zia's eyes; Nina, Ivy, Tigran, Maia, Breejit... Edmund. The last face was the one that lingered, even as she realised she had not yet grieved properly for her dead friend. Her chest tightened - whether with guilt or with longing, she couldn't tell.

"The Centaurs see a dark future written in the stars," The nymph withdrew her hand. "A future that greatly involves both you and the raven-haired King."

"What do the stars say, exactly?" Zia's voice dropped to a whisper.

"The nights grow cold," said the nymph, avoiding her question. "You must make plans if you wish to remain at your King's side through the winter months." Her gaze dropped furtively to the pouch tied around Zia's waist. "Farewell, and remember what I have told you." Then she was gone, seeming to dissolve right into the surface of the stream as though she was made of water herself.

By the time she returned to the others, Brook had built a small fire and the four of them sat huddled as close to the flames as they dared. Each pair of eyes watched her as she joined them, but none of them would hold her gaze. They all wore their hair as short as Tigran's, but only Brook's mimicked the golden colour of it. The other three all had the same dark hair and eyes like almonds, both in shape and colour. They could have been brothers if Dryads had actual blood relatives.

The toils of the day swiftly caught up with them and soon only Zia and Brook were left awake. Brook's eyes scarcely left her face - she knew he longed to question her. In no mood to answer, she avoided his gaze until his attention was focused on sharpening a stick with his flint knife. Her bow lay across her knees, the only familiar thing in this unfamiliar part of the woods. Despite the water-nymph's promise her nerves were stretched thin. Every time a twig snapped or a leaf rustled her heart began to pound, only for her to realise she had imagined the sound altogether.

She missed Edmund so much she felt ashamed of it.

As the hours passed the air grew colder. Brook noticed her shivering and stoked the fire, but the feeble flames couldn't ease the chill in her bones. The nymph's words came back to her. _You must make plans if you wish to remain at your King's side through the winter months._ She already wished she was curled up in the boughs of her tree instead of on the cold ground. When the nights started to leave dustings of frost behind like sugar sprinkled on top of the little cakes that Edmund and his siblings enjoyed so much, she would simply curl up to sleep and wake up only when new buds and tiny green shoots emerged from under the endless white. The time to sleep drew near - she could already feel the lethargy spreading through her limbs.

But this time was different. Tigran was still in trouble. Edmund needed her. She couldn't leave him behind for months on end. Who knew what would happen? Would she wake up in spring only to find that Edmund was long dead, as Pelerine had with Tumnus' father? No. She wouldn't let that happen. There _had_ to be a way.

* * *

She must have slept, for a sudden noise woke her. Her eyes found Brook's and his expression confirmed her fears. Something was coming.

Putting a finger to his lips, Brook motioned for her to wake the others. She did so with her bow firmly gripped in her right hand, the fingers of her left hand witching with anticipation of knocking an arrow. Once the triplets (as Zia had come to refer to them) had come to their senses, the five of them stood, backs pressed together and weapons poised, squinting into the grey gloom that clung between the trees like old cobwebs.

The footsteps grew nearer and more distinct. It became clear that whoever - or whatever - was approaching wasn't alone. There were at least two of them if they were on horseback, at least four if they travelled on foot. The treads were light - that meant the General hadn't changed his mind and decided to kill them after all. If Zia wasn't mistaken, at least one of the sets of footsteps belonged to a horse.

Her heart leaped into her mouth. Philip? Or Seren? Even Peter's white unicorn would have been a welcome sight, regardless of its rider's low opinion of her.

The figure that emerged from the shadows was neither Horse nor Man. His curly hair was dishevelled and his dark eyes hooded as though he hadn't slept well for days, but his face was so familiar that Zia had run over and flung her arms around him before the others had drawn breath. They stared on in bewilderment as Zia greeted the Centaur like an old friend.

"What are you doing here?" Zia stepped back from Davlon as another Centaur appeared beside her friend. This one was female, with a pale torso and light blonde hair to match her palomino tail. She was looking at Zia as if she had crossed a boundary. "I thought you were with Edmund and Peter on your way back to the Cair?"

Davlon smiled and Zia knew he was as glad to see her as she was him. "I have waited for you since you disappeared through those doors with that blond boy and goodness knows what kind of silly idea in your head." He looked over her shoulder at the other Dryads regarding him with a mixture of awe and fear. "Is he still with you?"

Zia shook her head. "The General has him. He's on their side now." She couldn't keep the sadness out of her voice.

Davlon drew her close to his body and pressed his face into her hair. He smelled of pine and the sweet horsey scent that was becoming ever more familiar. She could smell it on Edmund's skin at the end of most days.

"I'm sure he knows what he's doing," he said comfortingly. "He may talk too much but there's a clever head on his shoulders."

Zia nodded. "Is Edmund alright? Did they all get away safely?"

His fingers gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, Zia watched the female Centaur's slender eyebrows rise. "His Majesty is just fine, his brother has him well looked after." He smiled again as Zia released a breath. "We must get you to safety. This part of the forest is unpredictable. Come, we can talk more on the way."

The she-Centaur cleared her throat and Davlon blinked as though he had only just remembered she was there. He suddenly looked uneasy. The woman swished her tail and stepped towards Zia, lightly nudging Davlon out of the way. "I am Lydian," she said, and Zia felt she was being thoroughly scrutinised by her quick eyes. "I am Davlon's mate."

Her words were like a fist in Zia's stomach. Davlon had never mentioned Lydian before, let alone that she was his mate. No wonder he looked so uncomfortable!

"How do you do," she muttered, though her gaze was on Davlon. His head was lowered and, by the Mane, was he _blushing_?

Lydian took no notice of Davlon's obvious awkwardness and moved off to introduce herself to Brook and the triplets. They bowed and their eyes lit up. Zia guessed that none of them had met a Centaur before.

"How long has she been your mate?" Zia murmured to Davlon. "What does that mean, anyway? Do Centaurs have wives?"

Davlon hushed her with a subtle glance at Lydian. She seemed immersed in conversation with Zia's companions, as though she found them as fascinating as they did her. "I haven't even thought of that yet. Lydian and I have been companions since we were foals, but I didn't know until recently that she had an interest in becoming something more."

"So it wasn't love at first sight?"

His hands landed gently on her shoulders and he gently steered her back the way he and Lydian had come. "I'll tell you everything when the time is right, but now we really must be going. Dawn is on the horizon."

Lydian led the way with two of Zia's companions walking on either side of her. The four boys chattered happily away as if they had forgotten that their friend was trapped inside that fortress with a Minotaur and Aslan knew what other kinds of horrific creatures. Lydian smiled and laughed along with them, her golden coat shimmering even in the sparse light. Zia stayed at Davlon's side, staring miserably at her feet. Davlon tried to cheer her up by telling stories as they walked, but by now she was so exhausted and sick with longing that she could barely manage a smile.

"I'm sorry for the way our last meeting ended."

Zia sighed. She had been trying to keep the memory of that day out of her mind - the last words she had spoken to Breejit stung like knives piercing her heart.

"I'm the one that should be sorry. I was stupid and reckless. But I don't regret it as I know I should and that makes me feel ashamed."

He regarded her with soft eyes. "Perhaps it would be for the best if the past was forgotten. There are more pressing matters that require our attention."

"Like what?"

"Well your loud-mouthed friend must be rescued, for one thing. Aslan knows what sort of trouble he'll get himself into inside that fortress. Also, there are rumours that the Giants are preparing to come south and wage war."

"On whom?" Zia asked in alarm.

Davlon could only shrug. "I would say whomever gets in their way first."

The sun was climbing into the sky by the time Lydian finally came to a halt, although all the party could see of it was a watery yellow light gingerly poking through the canopy above. The leaves had started to turn and the ground was already decorated with splashes of red and orange. The sun couldn't truly banish the chill from the air. Zia walked so close to Davlon that their shoulders bumped, hoping to borrow a little warmth from his chestnut body.

They stopped in a clearing, empty but for a cluster of rocks and a few sparse flowers that wouldn't survive the changing temperature. The triplets sank gratefully to the ground, pulling briars out of their feet. Brook followed Lydian to Davlon's side. Zia answered the question in his eyes with a small nod, though he must have seen the weariness in her face.

"You may rest here for a while," Lydian told the two of them gently. "We will stay with you and await news from our kinsmen."

Zia followed Brook over to where the triplets were already snoring. One of them twitched as he slept, his fingers twisting into claws which then scratched at his own face. His nails left harsh marks on his skin. Brook caught the boy's wrist and straightened his fingers and the boy's face became peaceful again. Brook's, however, was a picture of concern.

"What's the matter?" Zia asked as he folded himself down between her and the boys. He hadn't yet taken his eyes off them.

"They are only young," he replied in a voice that should have belonged to someone much older than he looked. "Child soldiers, really. They aren't used to being away from their trees for long periods of time."

"But it has barely been four days!"

Brook frowned. The deep creases in his forehead and around his eyes suggested he did so too often. "I don't know why Tigran brought them along. They have great skill with swords but their minds are not yet fully honed for battle and the difficulties it brings. Though I suppose Tigran assumed we would be home by now. Sometimes he can be so arrogant."

"You shouldn't speak of him like that," Zia said sleepily, though the first thing she wanted to do when she saw Tigran again was close her fingers around his throat. _If _he ever saw him again.

Davlon and Lydian stood a little way off, talking in low voices with their heads bent close together. Davlon's face looked much the same as she knew hers did when she was with Edmund. It was as though Lydian hypnotised him. Zia wondered if his heart was thumping as though it might burst as Lydian smoothed his wiry hair back from his face.

Brook was smiling affectionately. "He's my best friend and has been for years. My insults mean less to him than if an insect were to land on his arm."

_Best friend. Childhood companion. _Zia's heart felt cold - she would never see her best friend and childhood companion again. Turning away so that Brook couldn't see her face, she tucked her knees under her chin and tried to breathe evenly until Brook began to snore softly.

Only then did she finally weep.


	28. Trouble in the North

**Trouble in the North**

Peter, Edmund and the others arrived back at the Cair without misfortune. The army's spirits collectively rose as soon as the white turrets became visible above the treetops, but their hearts were weighed down by the realisation that so many of their comrades were not there to witness the sight. The two brothers exchanged sad smiles. Susan and Lucy awaited them on the front steps and Ivy arrived with her healers soon after they had all spilled into the courtyard.

Edmund waved away Ivy's concern. "Don't worry about me - there are others with far more serious injuries." Even as he spoke a jolt of pain made him wince – the journey on horseback hadn't been good for his leg at all.

"Are you sure, sire? You look ever so pale."

"Quite sure," said Edmund, though he almost collapsed attempting to climb down from Philip's saddle. Peter caught him and lowered him down onto the cobbled stones, pillowing his head with his cloak.

"Always the martyr," Peter grumbled as Lucy rushed to their brother's aid. Lucy took Peter's place by Edmund's side whilst the older King moved off to assist some of the wounded soldiers.

Ivy ignored Edmund's protests as she peeled away the bloodstained bandage to examine the wound. It was wide and deep enough to need stitches, and the recent strain of dismounting had caused blood to well up again.

"Mr Tumnus has just been telling me what happened." Lucy's eyes were full of sympathy as she uncapped the crystal bottle she always carried in a pouch on her belt. Its bittersweet contents were familiar to Edmund, as was the slight burn in the back of his throat as he swallowed a single drop of the liquid. Ivy's eyes grew round as she watched the torn edges of his skin knit together. The fuzziness cleared from his head and he felt warmth return to his face. He slowly bent his leg. There was not a single prickle of pain.

"I can't take my eyes off her for a second," Edmund laughed, trying to make light of Lucy's last comment. He was more than a little anxious about the idea of Zia being inside that place, Tigran or no Tigran.

"Where's Peter?" he asked, glancing around and discovering the courtyard to be almost empty and his brother nowhere in sight.

"He had to attend an emergency council meeting." It was Mr Tumnus that answered his question as he appeared beside Lucy. He looked rather pale and shaky but was still in one piece. Ivy began to wipe away the blood that had dried and crusted on Edmund's skin. "He requested that you be taken to the hospital wing to get some rest."

Edmund raised one eyebrow. "Did he? Hm, I thought he knew me better than that. I'm perfectly fine thanks to Lucy." He smiled warmly at his sister and she squeezed his hand. "All I need is some clean clothes."

He changed into the fresh tunic and breeches that were brought to him and made sure to put an extra bounce in his step as he left to convince Ivy he really was cured. Jogging along the corridors brought him to the council chambers in less than four minutes. The amount of scuffling behind the door told him the session was already over. He stepped out of the way just as Peter emerged.

"Ed!" he exclaimed, taking him by the shoulders and checking him over. "You're up and about already. I thought I told Tumnus to take you to the hospital wing? I suppose I shouldn't have expected you to listen." His voice and face were cheerful but Edmund didn't miss the worry in his eyes.

"Once again we have Father Christmas to thank," he said lightly. "What was that about, then?"

"Apparently whilst we were gone the Giant situation has gotten worse. A group of Marsh-Wiggles have told us that the enemy have been crossing the border into the Wild Lands and trying to recruit them as servants. When they refused there was a bit of a skirmish and now the Giants are threatening war. I have to ride out immediately."

"Are you sure? You haven't yet rested."

"One of Ivy's nurses gave me the all-clear. I'll be fine."

"Do you need me to go with you?"

Peter shook his head. "It shouldn't take more than a few chests of gold to calm them down. You know how Giants are."

Edmund smiled and nodded. As Peter turned to leave, Edmund grabbed his arm. "I'm glad we're friends again."

"Me too, brother." Peter ruffled his hair with a chuckle that turned into a hearty laugh when Edmund punched his chest. "See you when I get back. And stay out of trouble!"

* * *

The messenger stood before the General was an ugly fellow, but then again every creature in this thrice-accursed place belonged in the realm of nightmares. This one had the head of a hawk that looked as though it had been sewn onto a tiger's body by a seamstress with only one hand and no eyes. Its tail was a writhing snake patterned garishly with red and yellow. The snake-tail hissed suspiciously at Tigran where he stood on the General's right hand side. His left leg had gone to sleep and his back ached from standing. He had been making military plans with the General when the horrendous creature had been let in by Tezrac.

"The Kings have reached Cair Paravel unharmed, sir."

"And?" the General prompted.

"King Peter is already riding north," added the creature, somehow twisting its beak into a malicious grin. "Your plan is working splendidly."

_Actually,_ Tigran wanted to interrupt, _most of this was my idea._ He was far from proud of it, though. But what choice did he have? The General looked to him for ideas now, including ones that involved the Kings and Queens.

The idea to use the Giants had come to him when the General had received word that his soldiers' attempts to recruit them had been unsuccessful yet again, and the Giants were growing ever more enraged. They had already threatened to attack Narnia if they weren't left alone, but the threats fell on deaf ears. It had been Tigran's idea to send word to the castle of the impending danger, knowing that either one or both of the Kings would make the journey to the border immediately. This would leave the siblings separated and the Cair more vulnerable to attack, which was what the General wanted, and Tigran's neck was safe as a result. What the General didn't know was that Tigran planned to reverse the effects of his treason (for treason it was, he thought bitterly) and bring the General and the rest of his nasty lot to a considerably sticky end.

The only problem was he had no idea how to do it.

As the General and the messenger continued to talk, Tigran examined his hand. A thin white scar as long as his little finger was all that remained of the wound whose ice-cold burning had almost driven him mad for two days and nights. The pain had disappeared, but he found that the scar still tingled whenever he thought about how he was going to escape. It was as if it knew that he had not truly chosen the side of evil – that his heart still despised the very thought of the Witch even after his tongue had sworn loyalty to her.

He kept hearing whispers a reincarnation that was to take place somewhere in the fortress, though no one seemed to know when. Some said the General planned to capture the Kings and Queens so that their blood could be the first Jadis spilled when she returned.

At least he was in a position to put himself to good use. He was allowed anywhere he pleased without question, since the guards that crawled all over the place like ants were under his command. He would find the place where they planned to bring the Witch back from the dead and he would put a stop to it. Then he would leave this place (after killing the General, of course) and find Zia. Hopefully when she heard what he'd done she wouldn't be angry at him for betraying them. At least Brook was with her and Brook trusted him. Maybe he could convince her that Tigran had done what he'd done for her sake – and for the sake of Narnia.

The General's voice called him from his daydreams and deposited him back in the throne room that the General had had built specially for himself, even though he was far from royalty. _Arrogant pig_, Tigran thought venomously as he plastered a sickly smile on his lips.

"Apologies, my lord." He ground out the title as though speaking it caused him physical pain. "I was somewhere else."

"Thinking up more clever plans to rid us of the brats who call this their kingdom, I hope?"

"Of course."

The General's satisfied smile twisted his stomach. "Excellent. I ought to think of a new name for you. I do enjoy thinking of new names for my loyal subjects. Don't I, Razorbeak?"

The hawk-tiger creature inclined its head. "Indeed, my lord. And may I say how marvellous the names you think of are, too."

Tigran didn't think Razorbeak was a particularly imaginative name, nor did he like the way the creature was sucking up to the General, but the Minotaur loved to be flattered. The compliments intoxicated him like wine, leaving him in a good enough mood to be more lenient if things weren't done in precisely the way he wanted.

He was little more than a spoilt child.

Tigran did his best not to squirm as the General looked him over and stroked the long hair on his chin in thought. "I have seen you on the training field. Your skill with a sword is truly remarkable. Most of my men fear you, and are afraid to fight you even in practise. They obey you without question simply because of what you can do with a piece of forged metal." He snapped his fingers. "I shall call you Slasher."

Once again, Tigran was less than impressed with the General's creativity and much preferred his own name, but he stooped into a low bow all the same. Besides, he was a little flattered by the analogy.

"A most wonderful name, my lord. I shall bear it with the utmost pride."

"Good, good!" The General clapped his hands like a gleeful child. "Now, where were we? Ah yes! The one who calls himself The Magnificent will reach the northern border in less than a day, but his wretch of a brother remains at Cair Paravel. The castle will be too heavily defended as long as he remains. I'm sure you can think of something to lure him away?"

He certainly could. The only reason Edmund would have to leave the castle would be if his family was in danger. Oh, but wait…

Zia.

No! Tigran shook the idea away before it could entice him. He would not risk Zia's life for the sake of the General. He would rather drive the blade of ice right through his own heart.

"It's simple," he found himself saying. "If the Just King found out his brother needed his help he would not hesitate and ride straight to him."

Great job, Tigran. Zia will never forgive you if anything happens to him and it's your fault.

Stop thinking about Zia!

"Ah, of course! We shall send him a nice letter from his dear brother. Tezrac! Fetch the scribe. We shall begin at once."

The scribe was the only one in the entire fortress who could write. He was nowhere near as hideous as all the creatures Tigran had encountered so far – in fact he looked familiar. He was a Black Dwarf with a useless leg that meant he was no use on the battlefield or in a forgery, so he had learned to put his hands to good use in a very different way. He took pride in his craft despite the mocking comments he received from the soldiers, for he knew something they didn't. Words, if used in the right way, could be more dangerous than any weapon of war.

The little Dwarf made a wobbly bow once he had limped up to the General's high chair. The Minotaur addressed him as Clubfoot – Tigran had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning – and beckoned him up the steps until the creature's neatly combed beard almost brushed the General's knee. He then waved Tigran forwards so he could put his sharp tongue to good use. It was a struggle to find the right words, but the parchment that Clubfoot held out to him when he had finished would have to do.

_Edmund,_ it read, _I have reached the northern border to discover the situation is worse than we anticipated. You must set out to meet me as soon as you can. Bring with you as many men as you see fit._ _Give the girls my love. Tell them not to worry._ _Peter._

"Fine words indeed!" the General exclaimed as he studied the parchment. He glanced up at Tigran with something close to admiration. He called to Tezrac and handed him the parchment. "Have this sent to Cair Paravel immediately. Use one of the inconspicuous messengers, mind! Send one of the Ravens; they're fairly reliable, though they demand much too high a price. Off you go!"

Tezrac bowed his way out of the room, the precious parchment clutched between his grubby fingers. Clubfoot was sent hobbling back to his study. He shot Tigran a sympathetic glance as he closed the door, leaving Tigran alone with the General again. That happened far too often for his liking, and he hadn't even been there for three days. He excused himself as politely as possible, bowing so much on his way out that he felt nauseous. Better to seem like a suck-up than risk his head on a chopping block. As soon as he was out of the door he broke into a run.

His feet carried him towards the training ground without any instruction from his brain. He missed the reassuring weight of the sword. Practising helped him to think; he needed to work out what he was going to do next before time ran out. Most of all, he just needed to stab something.

Loud footsteps and booming voices stopped him in his tracks. He slid into an alcove just as two guards rounded the corner. One was unnaturally tall and so thin that it was easy to count his ribs. The other was too short for his skin; it hung off his frame in rolls from his head to his squat legs.

"You sure that's what they said?" asked the first, squinting doubtfully down at his companion.

"Positive," the second replied. He lifted what should have been his chin and puffed out his saggy chest, making all the skin on his torso wobble alarmingly.

"You sure it's tomorrow?"

"Yep - once the brat brothers are both out of the way it will be easy for her to lead a raid on the castle and kill the two Queens. Then she will take care of the Kings herself."

Tigran's heart had begun to pound. The sound echoed around the cramped space so loudly that his whole body tensed with fear of being discovered. It didn't matter that he was above the guards in rank; he had a feeling he wasn't meant to hear this conversation and if the General found out he had been eavesdropping it would all be over.

"About time," the skinny creature grumbled. His dark skin was stretched so tight over the bones that it had become translucent. Tigran's eyes grew wide with horror as the guards drew close enough to his hiding spot for him to see the creature's heart beating inside his ribcage. "The General doesn't have a clue what he's doing. We've been shut inside this hellhole for months. When she comes back we'll get to have lots of fun." The first guard cackled devilishly and the second joined in, creating such a noise as they passed that Tigran cringed further into the corner. He strained to hear more, but the guards were too far away and their voices had receded to murmurs. He briefly thought about following them, but decided against it.

His head was reeling, replaying snippets of the conversation over and over. Who was 'she'? What was going to happen in two days' time? They couldn't have been talking about bringing the Witch back already, could they? Tomorrow? What could he do in twenty four hours?

He took a deep breath and slid down the wall, wrapping his arms around his knees and feeling helpless. He _needed_ a plan. And fast.

The shadows hid him well, and for that he was grateful. He knew he would be there for a while.


	29. Fire

**Fire**

Tigran sighed softly. He didn't know how long he had spent curled up on the floor, but his back had started to cramp and the pain was steadily growing unbearable. Still he didn't get up. The sun was setting on another miserable day; the grey stonework faintly glowed orange, giving the illusion that he was sat at the heart of a flame. Fire was an uncomfortable thing for Dryads, although it was necessary. He wasn't afraid of it. It was merely common sense that kept him from straying too close. He knew of its treacherous nature. It goaded you with its warmth and protection, pretended to be your friend so you would come closer and then it would bite. It would crackle playfully as it burned, delighted to have something to amuse itself with. It would burn until there was nothing left, then it too would peter out with a hiss. It wasn't fussy about choosing a playmate – fire could kill anything.

A memory suddenly occurred to him, a memory from last spring, when he had woken up from his season-long slumber and watched the trees shake the icicles from their branches. An icicle had fallen at his feet, landing in a pool of sunlight. He had been fascinated by the way it sparkled with the hues of a rainbow. He had crouched beside it, careful not to block the light with his shadow, and gingerly ran his fingers along it. It was cold, cold enough to burn, and his fingers had come away wet. He had licked them, thinking they would taste of something strange and wonderful, but it was only water. The icicle had shrunk, dwindled away in the warm sun like a sharp blade worn down to a dull stump, until Tigran had been left staring at a puddle of water.

Fire could kill anything, but ice was its mortal enemy. Ice stood no chance against fire's wrath.

Fire. That was it.

Ignoring his protesting muscles, Tigran scrambled to his feet. He stuck his head out of the alcove. The corridor was utterly deserted. He stepped out of the shadows, glancing appreciatively out of the window at the far end of the corridor at the flaring sun. Then he turned and strode briskly in the opposite direction. He prayed he hadn't left it too late, that he would still have time before he was expected in the front lines of the General's army as they marched for Cair Paravel. He had less than a day before the ritual would begin and that meant preparations would already have been made.

He allowed himself a small grin. This would be easy.

The hollow bonging of a bell made him jump. It was time for the evening meal and he would be expected to be there. The first time he had heard the bell he had laughed out loud, earning him confused glances from the General and whoever he had been talking to at the time. The thought of creatures as barbaric as these having a dinner bell for some reason struck him as hilarious and it had given him hope that perhaps dining with them wouldn't be an entirely unpleasant experience. He'd been wrong.

A niggling thought in the back of his head suddenly made itself apparent: _That wasn't the dinner bell. The soldiers are being summoned. We're going to war._

He paused indecisively. If he didn't turn up in the courtyard to give orders questions would be asked and as soon as they discovered the ritual had been ruined, the finger of blame would be pointed squarely at Tigran's chest. But if he didn't do it now he might not get another chance and it would be too late. He wouldn't let seeing the disappointment in Zia's eyes be for nothing.

He continued on, his light footsteps echoing quietly behind him. The echo grew louder as he went on and suddenly he realised that it didn't match the pace of his feet. He groaned internally, searching for somewhere to hide. The only thing within reach was a tapestry. He ducked behind it as the echo turned down the corridor, flattening himself against the rough stone wall. Thankfully the tapestry was long enough to cover his feet. Harsh breathing accompanied the echo – the owner of the footsteps was definitely in a hurry – and the smell of wet fur grew strong in his nostrils. When the creature had passed, he pulled back the corner of the tapestry and peeked out. A mass of dark hair topped with horns was just disappearing around the next corner, heading in the same direction Tigran had been a moment before. He counted slowly to five, taking deep breaths to calm his jittery heart. Then he followed.

As he had suspected, he followed the bulky shape towards the hidden staircase Tezrac had shown him before. He waited out of sight while the creature lit a torch, smiling with satisfaction as it lifted a bunch of keys from its belt. The jangling metal effectively confirmed the creature's identity and Tigran's curiosity rose as the General disappeared through the door. He caught it before it could close and peered down. He could see nothing, but he heard the faint scuff of hooves on stone somewhere in the blackness. An unlit torch rested against the wall just inside the door. He picked it up, testing its weight as though it was a sword. If this went according to plan, it would serve as the weapon that defeated the White Witch for the second time.

The room below the fortress was exactly as he remembered. The statue glared at him as he stepped through the archway and he gave it a mock salute. The General crouched at his Queen's feet and Tigran could hear him muttering to himself. The air inside the room felt charged with some kind of electric power. The strange candles were unlit, though their wicks seemed capable of spontaneously bursting into life.

He approached the statue cautiously, the palm of his left hand prickling as though in warning. The General didn't turn. Tigran watched him remove the knife from his belt and lay it at the stone Witch's feet. Good, he was unarmed. The torch he had used to navigate the stairs hung in a bracket to Tigran's left. He used it to light the one in his hand, starting a little as the flames roared to life uncomfortably close to his face. They were orange and ordinary, but he remembered how the candle flames had glowed blue. They must be enchanted and Tigran was willing to bet that enchanted fire didn't rely on kindle to grow.

He glanced back at the statue. The General was staring at him. He had risen from his crouch and had drawn himself up to his full height, arms crossed over his chest like a father preparing to scold his child.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Assisting with the preparations, my lord," he replied.

The General took a step towards him. "How did you know about the ceremony?"

Tigran shrugged. "To be honest, my lord, I didn't. When did you plan to tell me about it?"

"That is not your concern."

The two had begun to circle each other. The Minotaur was still between Tigran and the statue, and Jadis' translucent face seemed to mock him. "Pity, I thought you trusted me."

"It would seem that would have been foolish. You came here to defy me."

"What gave you that idea?"

The General rolled his eyes. "I have no time for your games. If you choose to betray me you will be severely punished."

Tigran shrugged. "I shall endure my punishment safe in the knowledge that you have failed."

The room shook with the General's harsh, bellowing laughter. "And what makes you think I will fail?"

"Because good always triumphs over evil, doesn't it?" said Tigran with a wicked grin. "I have Aslan on my side and he has already defeated your Queen once."

They were now at opposite sides of the room, each equidistant from the statue. A quick glance confirmed that the General had left his knife on the floor. Tigran hoped it still contained some of the Witch's magic; if he was wrong he would die. The General was smirking at him and didn't appear to have guessed what he was planning. He had always been told that Minotaurs were clever creatures, but perhaps this one was too drunk with power to anticipate his own doom.

"Your precious Lion won't save you this time," was the scathing reply. "He hasn't been seen since those four brats took the thrones. Looks like you're all alone. You may as well give up now and retain some of your dignity to face the executioner."

The knife was only a few paces away, gleaming invitingly by the light of his torch. He let his shoulders sag in submission. "I suppose I may have been a fool," he said quietly.

"Indeed," said the Minotaur mockingly. "Did you not think I knew you would be disloyal? You Narnians are far too noble for your own good, in that you will defend your own until your last breath. You played the part of my willing servant a little too well, doing everything I asked of you without protest. Of course I grew suspicious, and it seems I was right. Yet you continued to do my bidding, bringing about the destruction of your beloved Kings and Queens without a second's thought."

Throughout the General's speech Tigran could do nothing but gape. He'd been tricked? How had that happened? He was the one who was supposed to do the tricking around here. How could it be that the roles had been reversed without him knowing?

Through the white noise in his head, he suddenly became aware of a solid mass charging towards him. He sidestepped just in time, managing to swing his torch around so that it struck the General's back. The beast howled as his fur caught alight and he once again lunged for Tigran, grabbing at him and missing by barely an inch. Tigran's hand found his sword hilt and he drew the weapon with a cry. The General fumbled at his belt as Tigran advanced, a look of horror crossing his ugly face as he realised he was without his knife. They both lunged for it at the same time. Tigran ducked out of the way of the Minotaur's fists and stabbed wildly with his sword. He was rewarded with a terrible shriek of pain as the General crumpled to the floor. His body lay sprawled between Tigran and the knife. Tigran knew for certain the wound had not been deep and the beast was already getting up, grunting and snuffling like a common hog.

Looking back, Tigran could not be sure how the next few moments had happened. The Minotaur had turned to face him, blood gushing from the wound in his neck. In those yellow eyes was nothing but hatred and a promise of vengeance. Tigran's hands were slick with sweat, the left one felt as numb and swollen as it had when it had first been cut. He made another swing towards the General's torso, but the beast easily dodged it and the sword became unbalanced in his clammy hand. The Minotaur knocked it aside and began to laugh. It was the sort of terrible laugh that a hero hears just before the fatal blow and is left with it echoing in his mind for all eternity. Then the beast leapt and Tigran's breath was knocked from his body. The hard soil cut into his back and his spine jarred as his head collided with the ground. The General's dripping muzzle and deranged eyes were a hand's breadth from his face and in his right hand he held the knife triumphantly aloft.

"So long, brave Narnian."

As the blade hurtled down towards his chest, Tigran used the last of his strength to thrust the torch right into the Minotaur's face. The resulting scream was so terrible that Tigran would be haunted by it for years to come, but in that moment he was only aware of the weight rolling off his chest and the knife clattering harmlessly to the floor next to his right hand. His fingers gripped the hilt and he staggered clumsily to his feet, breathing hard. His vision was blurred around the edges but he could clearly see the dark mound of fur on the ground, screaming and writhing and clawing at his burning face. For a moment Tigran felt sorry for him - he had not intended his death to be so agonising.

Now is not the time for pity, he told himself as he shifted the knife into a more comfortable position in his hand. With a face as calm as thunder, he dropped the torch and the knife onto the General's heaving chest. The flames caught instantly, hissing and spitting blue sparks. It licked greedily at the Minotaur's prone form, dancing along his legs and arms until he appeared to be made of blue flames. But they didn't stop there; when the flames reached the end of his fingers they hopped onto the dry soil as if it was perfectly natural. It dawned on Tigran how much danger he was in – the fire didn't know the difference between good and evil and if he stood there a moment longer it would come for him.

"Time to go." He bent to retrieve his sword and made a dash for the door. The flames nipped at his heels like a puppy that wanted to play. He could outrun it for sure, but the question lay in whether he would be able to set the troops in motion before they caught on to what was happening. There was only one way to find out.

* * *

"What in Aslan's name are you doing here?"

When Edmund reached the Northern border, he wasn't sure what kind of welcome he was expecting, but he certainly hadn't been expecting that. Peter stood before him in his full armour, his helmet tucked under one arm and his shield in his other hand. He looked slightly worse for wear, his blonde hair was dark with sweat and grease and his left cheek had been grazed almost beyond recognition. But despite the injury his confusion was all too apparent.

"You sent for me," Edmund replied, indicating the group of Narnians he had brought with him to serve as Peter's back up.

"I did no such thing."

Edmund reached into his belt and pulled out the roll of parchment that had been presented to him in the throne room two days previously. Peter put down his shield and helmet in order to take it, and Edmund watched his expression transform from puzzlement to shock and finally worry.

"I didn't send this," he murmured.

Edmund frowned, glancing back to his soldiers standing bemusedly behind him. "Then who did?"

"What did the seal look like?" Peter demanded gesturing to the letter.

"There was no seal," Edmund said impatiently. "I assumed you were too preoccupied to bother with a _seal_."

Peter stared at him, his blue eyes wide. "Edmund, I did not send this letter. Surely you would know my handwriting even if it was sealed?"

Edmund gulped. He hadn't thought of that. He was just so worried about what was said in the letter that he hadn't even stopped to think about the details. "Then that means I was tricked. I've been such a fool."

Peter rubbed Edmund's shoulder consolingly and shook his head. "No matter, I'm glad to see you. We must hurry back to the Cair as quickly as possible though."

Behind him Edmund could see white tents and people hurrying between them carrying pitchers and bandages. There were even a few Marsh-Wiggles, all of whom looked very disgruntled. "Where are the Giants?" he asked in a low voice.

"They agreed to go back to the Wild Lands where they belong. We managed to convince them we had things under control."

Edmund laughed weakly. "Well that's something. But the enemy will be halfway to the Cair by now."

"Then we must be quick," replied Peter briskly. "Gather all of those that can still fight. The sooner we get back to the girls the better."

"Don't worry Pete," Edmund said before his brother could stride off. "The Narnians wouldn't just let them attack the Cair. They'll protect Susan and Lucy with everything they have."

"I know," Peter replied with a small smile. "But we still need to make haste. Come on, get going."

* * *

Zia had hoped she would never have to face the horror of a battlefield again – especially not so soon after she had lost her sister under similar circumstances. But everyone seemed determined that the only way out of this was more bloodshed and she had had no choice but to join the Centaurs that had gathered in the clearing as they rushed to the aid of the two Pevensies in the castle on the cliff. Zia's stomach turned to ice when she learned of Edmund's absence, but there was no time to worry about him. The Cair was a chaotic frenzy of hasty war preparations; weapons and armour had to be cleaned, the hospital had to be stocked with supplies and food had to be gathered in case of a siege.

They had barely got everything ready before the lookouts on the battlements spotted the enemy emerging from the forest. Zia had taken up her position with the rest of the archers. She felt her heart drop right down to the ground floor of the castle when she spotted Tigran – his pale blonde hair visible even from a great height – leading the army on the back of a huge Snow Leopard.

"Oh Tigran, what have they done to you?"

Someone came up beside her and leaned their arms on the ramparts. Susan looked completely calm despite the frenzy all around them and the smile she offered to Zia was thoroughly genuine.

"There's still no sign of them," Zia said quietly. She lifted her hand to feel the familiar weight of the pendant around her neck, though it did little to ease the ache she felt in her bones.

"They'll come soon," Susan replied levelly.

"How can you be so sure? What if something has happened to them?"

Susan turned her head and raised one eyebrow. "I know because they have yet to let us down. I know because they are my brothers and I believe in them."

Zia couldn't hide the tremble in her voice when she asked, "Do you think we can win?"

"I can't say for sure, but we'll find out soon enough."

Somewhere in the distance a horn sounded. The battle had begun.


	30. Winter's Call

******A/N: **Thank you to everyone who's still with me. I know I'm ridiculously annoying when it comes to updates but if you're still putting up with me and you're still interested in this story then I love you and I'm sorry.

* * *

**Winter's Call**

The enemy swarmed over the horizon like insects. They moved as one great hulking mass of fur and metal, their ranks so closely packed that it seemed the ground had come to life. The Narnians charged forward to meet the advance head on. High above on the ramparts the sounds of battle were crystal clear, as though the fighting was happening in the very air around them.

As she paced the line of archers, Susan set her mouth in a determined line, though she could feel a crease forming between her eyebrows. There was no sign of either of her brothers. Lucy was safely hidden in a room deep inside the castle, behind an inconspicuous door that none of the creatures would think to look behind if they breached the front doors. The thought of such a thing happening made Susan shiver and she pushed the idea away.

Zia felt Susan's eyes on her and turned to meet them. She took comfort in the Queen's steady expression even as her own fingers trembled. She gripped her bow tightly in one hand, remembering how lost she'd felt without it. It was a great reassurance to have it with her now, although she wished more than anything that she wouldn't need to use it. Susan offered a small smile which she returned, but she didn't doubt that Susan saw the dread in her eyes. She gave a nod and proceeded to lead by example, reaching behind her to pull an arrow from the quiver on her back. The familiar routine filled Zia's arms with renewed energy and lent confidence to her movements. Her mind seemed to shed itself of all doubt and negativity. She watched her arrow fly beside those of her comrades, and only remembered Tigran when she caught sight of his Snow Leopard – a conspicuous splash of white amidst a sea of black and grey.

A bubble of hysterical laughter burst in her chest – at least he hadn't lost his flair for the dramatic.

Susan barked another order and the archers reloaded as a unit, moving like puppets whose arms were all attached to the same strings. Zia remained motionless, her eyes fixed on the Snow Leopard and its rider. The point of Tigran's sword was aimed at the Narnians, stabbing and slashing at them without a second's hesitation. She could almost imagine his gleeful expression. If there was any hope that he had been faking his change of allegiance, it was now gone.

The Snow Leopard swatted away charging Fauns as though they were flies, and as a result Tigran reached the front gate in almost no time at all. The urge to run to him was so strong that her feet were moving before her brain had caught up. Susan's incredulous shout barely reached her ears.

The courtyard was filled with soldiers preparing to meet the onslaught when it broke through the gate. She caught sight of Brook and Lydian standing with half a dozen other Centaurs towards the front of the crowd. She made her way over to them and a cold knot formed in her abdomen when she caught sight of Brook's expression. He was staring blankly through the iron bars at his former best friend. Tigran was barely ten feet away, his army of outcasts close behind. They moved more slowly as the Narnians redoubled their efforts, but still continued to advance at an alarming rate.

Zia touched Brook's hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have done something back at the fortress. I should have talked to him…"

"No." Brook turned to her. His eyes were hard and seemingly dead, but Zia had seen that expression enough times on Edmund's face to know that Brook was fighting to stop his emotions from erupting. "I'm the one who should have done something. It's always been my job to look after him." His shoulders dropped just a fraction and Zia knew his control was cracking. "This is my fault. I've failed."

Her reply was cut off by an almighty screech as the gate was bent back on its hinges. Immediately the soldiers in the courtyard leapt forward, descending upon the invaders like a river breaking through a dam. Zia lost sight of Brook in an instant. The consoling words she'd been about to say died on her lips. They had sounded feeble anyway – what comfort could possibly be offered to someone who had just lost their best friend?

A sound rose above the commotion, momentarily stopping the soldiers in their tracks. It was a ferocious, undulating roar, a sound that denoted savagery and sheer power. The front lines scattered as the Leopard bounded into the courtyard, snapping and snarling. A shout came from behind Zia and she turned to see the Centaurs raising their bows. She wanted to tell them to stop, there was too high a risk of an arrow finding its way to Tigran, but they were too fast. An agonised yowl cut through the air, echoing deafeningly off the high walls. Six arrows protruded from the Leopard's left flank, rendering its hind leg almost useless. Tigran was completely unharmed.

With a cry of triumph the Fauns charged. They threw themselves at the Leopard, bringing it down just by the force of their numbers. Tigran was lost from view, but there was no time to look for him. The courtyard was soon overrun with bellowing Minotaurs, shrieking Harpies and grunting Boggles – there seemed to be no end to the stream of creatures flooding through the gates.

During the confusion that followed, Zia seized her chance. The great Leopard lay on its side a few paces from the gate, unable to fight as its limbs and muzzle were bound with ropes. Such a noble creature should not be killed, but nevertheless the beast would be punished. Tigran was caught in the middle of a group of Narnians, outnumbered six to one and still completely unfazed. Two of the soldiers staggered back away from his blade and he made a break for it, heading straight for the front steps. There was no one left to challenge him but Zia. She started after him, narrowly avoiding a Boggle's axe that almost took her head clean off.

She caught up to him just as he was about to slip through the front doors. He whirled around as she caught his sleeve, bringing his sword up and pressing the cold metal into her throat. His eyes were half wild and too bright - he looked completely insane. He lowered his blade when she choked out his name and she stumbled back, eyes wide with horror. When she touched her neck her fingers came away covered in a syrupy liquid.

Tigran looked as startled by the blood as she was. He stared at her hand for a moment, then raised his head and seemed to look at her properly for the first time. "Zia, what are you -"

"Doing? What am I doing?" Her voice was raspy and it hurt to talk. The sword had cut deeper than either of them realised. "I'm trying to stop you from making a huge mistake! Look around you! Is this what you want?"

He blinked slowly as though coming out of a trance. "It was the only way," he said quietly.

"The only way to do what? Tear Narnia in half? What were you even _thinking_? I ought to strangle you! I ought to -"

His fingers closed around her wrist, effectively cutting off her words. He pressed his thumb to the vein and she felt her own heartbeat pounding against his skin. "If you just hold off the rant for a little bit longer, I can explain."

Outside in the courtyard, the battle raged on. Zia couldn't tell which side was winning, but the screams of the wounded and the dying echoed in her ears until she wanted to curl her body into a ball and hide away in a dark corner. They were safely hidden from view, standing just behind the left-hand door, which was still firmly closed. The entrance hall was oddly chilly and dark, and Zia realised it was because the candles weren't lit. The light from outside lit up only half of Tigran's face, throwing his sharp features into eerie contrast. His grip was too tight, almost as though he was clinging to her - as though she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

When he began to speak, his voice was a hushed whisper drowned out by the noise in the courtyard. She leaned closer, feeling the cold slickness of blood congealing on her skin, and listened as he told her the whole story of everything that had happened from the moment he first set foot in the General's office. She couldn't help but gasp a little when he explained his betrayal of Edmund and Peter - how he had helped lead them on a wild goose chase so that the Cair's defences would be weakened. He finished by recounting the details of what had happened in the underground chamber, and fell silent, watching her face intently for a reaction.

Zia's chest began to hurt and she realised she was holding her breath. She watched the emotion in Tigran's eyes change from hope to confusion to grief as he released her wrist and hung his head.

"Well, that's the story. It's all completely true, in case you were wondering. Now at least you know I'm not a traitor. Regardless of whether you choose to forgive me, just know that I never had anything other than the freedom of Narnia in mind."

He turned to leave, and a sudden overpowering urge took hold of Zia's body. The next thing she knew Tigran's back was against the wall and her fingers were around his throat, crushing, choking, squeezing the life out of him. His nails clawed at the skin of her hands but she felt no pain, only a dull burning in her throat. In the distance someone was shrieking. With a jolt she realised it was her own voice, but she couldn't make out her own words through the roaring in her ears. Her fingers closed tighter around Tigran's windpipe until his attempts to fight grew weak and his eyes began to close.

_Zia, stop!_

She wasn't sure if the shout came from behind her or inside her mind, but moments later someone was dragging her off Tigran, holding her waist and lifting her feet off the floor as she struggled to free herself. There was a voice in her ear, whispering soothing words, and a pair of cool hands held hers until the fog began to clear and her vision swam back into focus. The first thing she saw was Tigran crumpled on the floor, coughing and struggling to force air back into his lungs. Her stomach gave a sickening lurch: _Did _I _do that_?

The person who'd pulled her away from him released their hold on her waist and she swayed dangerously, barely managing to stay on her feet. Her whole body was shaking, her hands especially. She looked down at them, expecting to see a mark, something that branded her as a killer for what she had just tried to do. But they looked exactly as they always did, if a little paler.

A figure was bent over Tigran, rubbing his back and holding him upright as he fought for breath. Ivy glanced up at her and Zia expected to see accusation in her eyes, but there was only the familiar kindness and something else even softer: pity.

"What - what did I do?" Zia suddenly felt very, very tired.

"You've been away from your tree for a long time," said Ivy. "It takes its toll."

"But I just tried -" She closed her eyes. _You just tried to kill him._

Ivy nodded. "That's what happens. The longer you're away from your tree, the more unstable you get. I would say you're lucky not to have felt the effects until now, but perhaps it would have been better if you'd shown symptoms sooner." She smiled gently, but the warmth of it was lost in the numbness spreading through Zia's chest.

Ivy searched through her medical supplies and handed over a bottle. In it was a clear liquid that Zia recognised from the very first time she'd come to the Cair. Alex and Ivy had made her take it to prevent her from going crazy from the time spent away from the grove. She uncapped the bottle and drained the potion in three gulps. She didn't feel any better for taking it, but Ivy's reassuring smile told her she no longer needed to worry about attacking anyone else.

Ivy's eyes travelled from Zia's face down to the pouch around her waist. "May I ask what's in there?"

"What?" Zia had completely forgotten about Alexandra's parting gift. She was surprised it hadn't fallen off after everything she'd been through since the former Physician had left. She tugged open the drawstring and carefully reached inside the bag. Her fingers closed around something smooth and cylindrical. She pulled it out and discovered it was a vial not unlike the one she'd just taken from Ivy, but the liquid inside this one was deep purple instead of clear. The bottle was about as long as her palm and as wide as two of her fingers, and there was a piece of parchment marked with instructions tied around the neck. There was something else at the bottom of the pouch. It was a note, written in the same hand as the one on the bottle. Zia handed the note to Ivy, who took it with a look of curiosity on her face. Tigran shuffled closer to look over Ivy's shoulder, wincing a little.

"Dear Zia," Ivy read aloud, "By the time you read this I'll be long gone. I hope I got the chance to say goodbye in person, but if not then I apologise. Anyway, I stumbled across the recipe for this potion when I was reading up on Dryads - your people really are fascinating - and I realised that there was a way for you to not have to hibernate in winter. With this potion, Edmund won't have to miss you, and I won't have to worry about him because I know he'll be happy. You can tell the others about the potion, but please don't mention this note. I think it's for the best if I make this as painless as possible for everyone. I wish you and Ed the very best for the future. Farewell."

When Ivy looked up, her eyes were full of tears. She handed the bottle back without a word, wiping at her eyes with her other hand. Zia stepped forward with the intention of hugging her, but the sudden blast of a horn made them all jump.

"What was that?" Tigran rasped. He tried to get up but wobbled, and Ivy caught his forearm before he could fall. Zia felt a sharp stab of guilt; Tigran was probably the Narnians' second best swordsman and she had rendered him almost useless.

"It sounded like -" Ivy started, but her sentence was cut short by an raucous cheer from outside.

The three of them rushed out onto the steps just in time to see Oreius leap over the fallen body of a Minotaur and canter into the courtyard. He was closely followed by a white unicorn and a chestnut Horse. The two riders each dismounted from their steeds and joined the Narnian front lines without a second's pause, and for a few precious moments it seemed everything would be all right.

"Watch out!"

Tigran's shout made Zia remember they were on a battlefield. She ducked just in time to avoid being hit by a Boggle wielding an enormous spiked club. The Boggle grunted in frustration and prepared to swing again, but it was prevented from doing so by an arrow embedding itself in the back of its head. The creature let out an enraged squeal and pitched forward, forcing Zia to jump back to avoid her legs being crushed. She looked up just in time to see Davlon reload his bow and send another arrow flying towards a second Boggle, but this time he wasn't so lucky. The arrow missed its target and stuck harmlessly in the thick skin on the Boggle's shoulder, only serving to annoy it as it advanced on the Centaur with its club raised high above its head.

"Your bow, idiot!" Tigran was still yelling despite the abuse his throat had already endured. He would have already thrown himself back into the fight if Ivy wasn't physically restraining him. "Use your bow!"

It was too late. The Boggle raised its club and brought it straight down towards Davlon's head. Just before the blow connected, he reared up onto his hind legs. Even from a distance, the sickening crunch of breaking bone was perfectly audible. Zia almost tumbled head first down the steps in her haste to reach him. She threw herself between the Boggle and Davlon, preparing herself for the second strike. But the blow never came. When she opened her eyes it was to see the Boggle staring at her in astonishment with the tip of a sword protruding from its flabby abdomen. The weapon was pulled free and the Boggle collapsed, spilling dark red blood onto the cobblestones.

Calling for Ivy, Zia knelt beside the body of her fallen friend. Davlon's legs were sprawled awkwardly beneath him. His left foreleg was bent at an unnatural angle. His face was pale and shiny but he managed to smile almost cheerfully as Zia pushed damp curls back from his forehead.

"You didn't have to do that," he said through gritted teeth.

"I didn't think," she replied. "Now don't talk, Ivy's on her way."

Davlon nodded. He looked on the verge of passing out. "Did you find that Dryad boy?"

Zia swallowed. "Yes. Everything's fine. He's still on our side."

"That's good."

"You mean he caused us all that worry for nothing?" said a voice. Edmund stood over them, dirty and sweaty but otherwise unharmed. His sword was dark with blood right up to the hilt. "Typical Dryad." He winked at Zia and placed a hand on Davlon's shoulder. "Sorry I didn't get here sooner." His words were directed at Davlon, but his eyes held Zia's with such intensity that she couldn't look away even if she'd wanted to. The realisation of how much she'd missed him was crippling. Part of her knew she should get up and throw her arms around him, but she found herself unable to move.

At that moment Ivy appeared at Edmund's shoulder, already holding a wad of bandages. The Narnian army had managed to drive the enemy back towards the gates so it was safe for her to tend to the wounded Centaur where he lay. The bodies littering the ground made Zia feel sick. She took a damp cloth from Ivy and focused on sponging Davlon's clammy forehead to take her mind off the carnage. Edmund lay his hand briefly on her head before turning and hurrying back to where he was needed. Davlon's eyes were closed now - the only sign he was still alive was the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

"Where's Tigran?" Zia asked Ivy.

"He went to find Queen Lucy," Ivy replied. She carefully ran her hands over Davlon's injured leg, using his quiet groans to locate the site of the break. "Without Alexandra I am the only healer skilled enough to deal with things like this. Lucy's fire-flower cordial would help me to no end."

Zia nodded just as Davlon's eyes cracked open. They were half-lidded and hazy, but the question coming from his mouth was perfectly clear.

"She'll come," Zia assured him soothingly. "Don't worry, she'll come." She didn't know if she believed her own words, but Davlon seemed content as she tenderly manoeuvred his head into her lap. She stroked his hair and silently prayed that Lydian could somehow sense her mate was injured, and that she would come quickly to be with him when he needed her.

The sounds of battle seemed far away now. The enemy was being forced to retreat further and further back into the forest, but still they wouldn't give up. Perhaps they still believed the White Witch would come. At least they couldn't do anything to Tigran once they found out he'd tricked them.

When Tigran finally returned with Lucy and her cordial, he was wheezing again. Zia began to worry she'd done permanent damage to his throat, but nevertheless he flashed a grin at her and announced he was going to help Lucy. The Valiant Queen looked positively delighted at this, and as they set off she began to chatter excitedly, bombarding Tigran with questions. Ivy finished wrapping up Davlon's leg and glanced towards the entrance, at the gate lying twisted and broken where it had been ripped off its hinges, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile.

"I think we'll be alright now."

As the last word left her mouth there was a horrendous crash, like the sound of half a dozen trees being felled at once. Zia leapt to her feet and ran to the gate, where Tigran and Lucy stood with their mouths agape.

"The mountains are moving!" Lucy cried, clutching at Tigran's arm.

Zia squinted into the distance as another crash shook the ground. The mountains _did _appear to be moving, but that was impossible. Then what in Aslan's name was going on?

"Giants," Tigran said grimly. "The Giants are coming."


	31. When Enemies Unite

**When Enemies Unite**

"Giants?" Lucy repeated in horror. "Why are the Giants coming _here_? They don't have any interest in what happens in Narnia." She was looking beseechingly up at Tigran, her eyes as wide as saucers, but Tigran didn't appear to have heard her.

For creatures so huge and heavy, the Giants moved alarmingly fast. They had travelled half the distance between Cair Paravel and the other side of the forest in just under ten minutes, and it wouldn't be long before they reached the castle. Their feet were the size of fishing boats – they demolished trees purely by accident as they marched, sending flocks of birds into the air like puffs of black clouds. Their startled cawing was drowned out by the tremendous noise of fifty huge feet stomping the ground in unison.

Panic began to bloom in Zia's chest. She glanced sideways at Tigran, hoping to see evidence of a plan forming in his mind. She was startled to see that his face was suddenly pale and drawn, as if he were ill, and his eyes were now so dark they were almost black. Though she could see he was fighting to keep his expression neutral for her and Lucy's benefit, Zia knew exactly what was going through Tigran's mind. He passed a hand over his eyes and she noticed with faint alarm that it was trembling.

"This isn't your fault," she told him firmly. She reached for his hand but he waved her away, never taking his eyes off the horizon.

"It doesn't matter whose fault it is," he said monotonously. "All that matters is what we do about it." He took Lucy gently by the shoulders, leaning down so that their faces were on the same level. "Go back to Ivy," he instructed. "Help her get the wounded to safety, and whatever you do stay close to her."

After staring at him for a moment, Lucy shook her head furiously. "No, I want to help! Please let me fight!"

"Lucy -" Zia began, but Tigran had taken the girl's face between his hands and was gazing at her like she was the only person in the world he wanted to protect.

"You _will_be helping," he assured her. "You can cure the wounded and prevent them from dying. That's far more important than killing."

Lucy bit her lip and nodded. "Okay." Tigran let her go and she turned to head back to Ivy, but not without giving him a long, unreadable stare before she left.

Tigran straightened up and brushed dust off his shirt. He had put the mask back in place and his expression had returned to normal.

Zia gawped at him in disbelief. "What was _that_?"

"What was what?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"_That_!" She gestured agitatedly at the spot where they had lost sight of Lucy. "You've only just met her and you were looking at her like – well, like you were in love with her or something!"

Tigran smirked, stoking her irritation. "Jealous?"

"Why would I be _jealous_? Sometimes you can be the most infuriating -"

Tigran held up a hand. "Whoa there, princess, let's not let our temper get the better of us. Anyway, she'll be safe now, won't she? That's all that matters."

"But you can't just go around flirting with whoever you like! She's a Queen, you know."

He looked straight into her eyes with a perfectly controlled expression. "I don't think you're in any position to tell me that."

Zia looked away. "Right. I'm going to find Edmund." She turned to leave but hesitated. She turned back to find him still watching her, a disconcerting darkness hovering in the depths of his gaze.

"He's all wrong for you, you know," he said quietly. The unexpected vulnerability in his face and voice was enough to make her heart thump painfully. He looked almost lost – something she would never have thought him capable of being.

She shook her head as if she could physically push his words away. She wouldn't let him see how they truly affected her – how much they echoed the doubts that had refused to leave her mind ever since her first confrontation with Maia.

She turned her shoulders away, effectively throwing up a wall between her and Tigran, and headed purposefully down the slope towards the battle. On her way down she happened across an abandoned sword and gratefully picked it up. The blade was curved like a scythe and wickedly sharp. The hilt had been crudely and carelessly shaped from a hunk of black metal that irritated her skin where she gripped it. It was no Narnian weapon, and with a sickening twist of her stomach she realised that the blood coating the blade was the blood of Narnian soldiers – maybe even the blood of her friends. Shuddering, she scraped the sword against the grass, though it did little to help clean it.

An ear-splitting screech jerked her head up just in time to see a Harpy dive out of the sky towards Edmund, its claws outstretched and aiming for his eyes. He barely had time to turn before it was upon him, causing him to overbalance and fall. The Harpy pinned him to the ground by the shoulders; its talons sliced straight through his armour and into the skin beneath. His chainmail was streaked with red and his face contorted with pain as he tried to manoeuvre his right arm to reach the Harpy with his sword. The creature noticed his obvious struggle and purposefully shifted all of its weight onto his right shoulder, causing him to scream in agony.

The sound sent a shock through Zia's body and she launched herself at the Harpy, catching it by the bony ridges at the base of its wings and dragging it off Edmund. The creature shrieked and shook her off, throwing her onto her back with a jarring thud that knocked the breath out of her. The sword flew from her hand and out of reach, leaving her weapon-less as the Harpy turned on her, its inky black eyes burning with ferocity. She threw up her arms to protect her face and felt the burn of razor-sharp claws slicing open her skin. The ground heaved beneath her; the Giants were almost here. She managed to push herself into a sitting position just as the Harpy flew at her a second time. She heard her own name mixed in with someone's screams as the Harpy's talons tore mercilessly at her face.

Something hit the Harpy with a heavy thud, sending it reeling sideways with an enraged squeal. A figure with pale blond hair wrestled the creature to the ground, his lips pulled back over his teeth in a feral snarl. The Harpy beat its wings in his face frantically, but Tigran remained astride it without so much as a wobble. His sword was in his hand and the usual deranged glint was back in his eyes. He stabbed his sword towards the Harpy's throat and the creature shuddered once before going still.

"Zia!" Edmund was suddenly beside her, his fingers sticky with sweat and blood as they circled her wrists. She tried to shake him off; the pain in her arms and face was unbearable and she knew she must look like a wreck. He was the last person she wanted to see - she wished so desperately for Ivy to come that her throat grew tight and she began to sob.

"Hey, it's okay," Edmund whispered soothingly. "Just let me have a look. I promise I won't touch them." He was gentle but insistent as he tugged her hands away from her face. In the end she let him, keeping her eyes closed so she wouldn't have to see the worry and panic grow in his.

When he spoke her name again, there was an edge to his voice that was much worse than worry or panic. "Please, open your eyes."

She did as he asked, and a scream caught in the back of her throat. The left side of her vision was completely dark - the Harpy had blinded her left eye.

She felt herself begin to shake, and Edmund's arms folded around her, drawing her close to his chest and stroking her hair. Suddenly a furious bellow shattered the air, and Edmund was pulling her to her feet, pushing her behind him as a Minotaur came charging towards them. Scared and disorientated, Zia stumbled and almost fell. Someone caught her arm before she lost her balance, narrowly avoiding the cuts that still bled profusely. Relief overwhelmed her when she recognised Tigran's face, though it swam in and out of focus so violently that she felt dizzy. She grabbed the front of his shirt, almost tearing the fabric, and felt him lift her into his arms.

Hovering on the edge of unconsciousness, all Zia could do was cling to Tigran with as much strength as she had left whilst he carried her up the slope towards the castle. She tried to speak, to tell him to let her walk, but he either couldn't hear or was choosing to ignore her. She gave up and allowed herself to drift, barely aware of the carnage and commotion around them until it was replaced by a soft murmuring of voices. She recognised one of the voices as Lucy's and moments later felt the cool metal rim of the cordial press against her lips. She had barely swallowed a drop before warmth surged through her body, flooding her muscles with pure energy and dragging her up out of the darkness.

When she fully regained consciousness seconds later, she realised she was lying on top of a white sheet and Lucy was bending over her. The fire-flower cordial was in her right hand, the cap still open.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Zia didn't open her eyes - she was scared of what she would discover if she did - but managed a smile for Lucy's benefit. "Much better. Thank you." It was true - she felt like running all the way to Archenland and back. Her arms and face no longer burned and the weariness was gone from her bones, but Lucy's cordial couldn't cure everything. The memory of what had happened caused her hands to start trembling again, and she felt Lucy cover them with her own.

"Zia..." she began in a voice weighted with bad news, "The cordial healed the wounds around your eye, but I don't know if it can bring your sight back. I'm so sorry." She sounded on the verge of tears.

Shaking her head, Zia gripped Lucy's fingers tightly. "Don't be. You tried your best." She cracked her right eye open, putting on her best reassuring smile. "I've still got the other eye, see?"

The young Queen laughed shakily. She glanced towards the corner of the room where Tigran stood, half concealed by shadows. His eyes were fixed on Zia and his expression was strained, like he was reining back some strong emotion.

"Thank you," she said. "You didn't have to do that."

Tigran scoffed and turned his head away. "Of course I did. If I hadn't you would have lost the other eye, or worse."

Zia scowled. "I was perfectly fine."

Tigran's arms were crossed over his chest and the muscles were taught. The tendons rippled under his skin as he clenched his fists tighter. "Sure you were. Look, do me a favour and stick to archery from now on. That way you're less likely to do something stupid."

"What gives _you_the right to -?"

"Stop it!" Lucy exclaimed. "Arguing isn't going to help anything. Tigran, you should go. They still need you."

Tigran shrugged as if it was all the same to him. He pushed himself away from the wall with his usual catlike fluidity and headed for the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, but didn't turn around when he spoke in a low voice, "I would strongly advise you to do as I say. I won't always be around to save your reckless behind."

Zia was still staring after him long after the door had closed, too shocked to think of a retort. What was his _problem_? One minute he seemed almost normal and the next he was back to being arrogant, sarcastic and generally irksome, throwing his weight around and acting like he knew what was best for everyone, not just her. For a brief moment she almost wished she _had_done permanent damage to his throat - at least then he wouldn't be able to make conceited remarks all the time.

"Don't mind him," Lucy said. Her gaze was also fixed on the door, though for an entirely different reason. "He's just worried about you. You should have seen him when he first brought you in here..." Her words trailed off, but not before Zia picked up on the sharp edge to her voice that sounded very much like jealousy.

"You're welcome to him," she said vehemently, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and ignoring Lucy's look of surprise. There was still a battle happening right on Cair Paravel's doorstep, and although impaired sight was a huge hindrance she could still be of use.

Her bow and quiver leaned against the cabinet at the side of the bed. She settled them both on her back and stood up, intending to go back up onto the battlements with Susan and the other archers. It bothered her to be doing what Tigran wanted, especially since he'd been so rude about asking, but she knew he was right. She was much better with a bow than with a sword, and if she got into trouble again there was no guarantee anyone would be able to save her.

Before she left, Zia reached into her pouch and took out the bottle. She handed it to Lucy, answering the question in her eyes with a smile.

"Look after this for me," she said. "It's very important."

"Okay, but what -?"

The sound of the hospital door slamming cut off the rest of Lucy's question - Zia was already gone.

Up on the ramparts, the wind caught Zia's hair and whipped it around her face as soon as she stepped out into the open. The temperature had dropped significantly and a mass of grey clouds had gathered overhead. The air was thick with the promise of a storm. From this height, Zia could see the approaching Giants and how unnervingly close they were to the Cair. They moved with purposeful strides and grim expressions, marching in two distinct rows. She looked down and saw the battle spread out below her like one of Peter's military plans. The Narnians had begun their attack by using the slope between the castle and the edge of the forest to their advantage, but the earth had begun to crack open beneath their feet, creating holes in their ranks and allowing the enemy to push through.

It wasn't difficult to spot Peter and Edmund. They were both throwing everything they had into keeping the Narnians as organised as possible whilst simultaneously trying to push the enemy back. A pair of Minotaurs suddenly appeared on either side of Peter; they somehow managed to separate him from the soldiers that protected his flanks, leaving him vulnerable and seemingly doomed. As though acting on a telepathic signal, both Minotaurs swung their swords in wide arcs towards the King. He ducked and his blond head disappeared from Zia's view. She was certain he'd been cut down where he stood until one of the Minotaurs roared and toppled sideways. The other looked around in confusion – a mistake that was to be its last.

"I told you they'd come."

Zia hadn't heard Susan approach; the Queen's voice made her start. Susan smiled her familiar soft smile, but it quickly moulded into an expression of concern that brought the crease back between her eyebrows.

"Are you alright? Your eye…"

Zia waved the question away. "That doesn't matter. I can still shoot." She hoped that was true - it looked like the archers would be the first to deal with the oncoming Giants.

Susan seemed to guess her thoughts. "Despite what they like people to think, they don't always have a perfect plan." Zia marvelled at how she could sound so calm when approximately four dozen twenty-foot-tall titans were heading straight for them.. She glanced over her shoulder at the other archers. A couple of them seemed to share Susan's composure, but the rest had their eyes fixed on the horizon and looked distinctly pale.

"Is this worse than what happened before?" Zia asked quietly. She was almost ashamed to voice the question – it made her realise how afraid she was.

"I suppose that depends on how you view both situations," Susan replied. She placed her warm hand on Zia's arm. "It's okay to be scared, you know."

Zia felt the corners of her mouth twitch up in a smile. "You aren't."

Susan's eyes twinkled. "Am I not?"

One of the female archers let out a cry. "Milady, the Giants have entered our range!"

The change that came over Susan was instantaneous. Suddenly she was no longer the caring, gentle sister figure that Zia had come to see her as, but the strong, battle-hardened Queen that the Narnians saw. She motioned for Zia to join the other archers and soon hundreds upon thousands of arrows were flying towards the Giants. A surprising number struck home, though they barely seemed to affect their targets at all. The Giants didn't break their pace as a second barrage of arrows bombarded them, and panic erupted amongst the archers.

"We need to target them one by one!" Susan called. "Start with the one in the centre and work outwards!"

The unfortunate Giant who was first to receive two hundred arrows in its chest dropped like a stone with barely a yell of surprise. This caused the two either side to bellow in rage, raising their clubs and baring cracked yellow teeth at the group on the battlements.

"There won't be time to bring them all down before they get too close!" Zia shouted to Susan.

"There aren't enough of us to shoot more than one at a time!" Susan replied. "Keep going!"

Three more Giants fell to the ground before the rest broke into a run, barrelling towards them at full speed and roaring a challenge. The castle shook on its foundations; huge chunks of stone crumbled from the walls around the outer courtyard. Gaping fissures opened up all around the battlefield. The remaining Harpies shrieked and took to the sky, but were soon brought down by the archers' arrows. The first of the Giants burst out of the forest with a deafening roar, knocking the nearest group of Narnians aside with his club. The battlefield descended into chaos as every soldier turned and ran for the hill, scrambling for the safety of the Cair. The Giants seemed to enjoy this greatly. They chased the fleeing figures with amused grins on their ugly faces, swinging their clubs and laughing like rumbling thunder.

The archers watched, frozen with terror, as the Giants neared the castle's entrance. One of them picked up the twisted hunk of metal that was once the front gate in both hands, grunting with the effort, and hurled it upwards. It hit the top of a tower and brought an avalanche of crumbling stone down on top of the archers. Zia threw herself to one side as a chunk of rock the size of a chariot rolled past. It exploded through the rampart wall and plummeted to the courtyard below. One of the Giants looked up just in time to see the missile before it hit him squarely on the head. He staggered a few paces, too dazed to react, before toppling sideways and crushing a section of wall beneath his enormous bulk.

Choking on the dust clogging her throat, Zia forced herself onto her hands and knees and looked desperately around for Susan. The Queen was miraculously still on her feet, ushering the archers to safety inside the castle. Zia made her way over to her, shielding her good eye from the rock dust that blew around them like snow. Susan took her hand and they fled the battlements together, heading towards the commotion and voices coming from the entrance hall. They arrived just as the front doors slammed shut against the Giants, leaving the hall in a darkness illuminated only by candlelight. The sky outside the windows had turned iron-grey and the clouds had thickened until almost no sunlight could pierce them.

Zia stopped at the top of the staircase leading down to the hall. The crowd of people below was split into two distinct groups. The Narnians occupied one side of the hall. Edmund and Peter had their heads bent close together, whispering, no doubt trying to come up with a solution to this new dilemma. Zia spotted Tigran standing side by side with Brook. They were battered and bloody but both wore faint smiles on their faces, clearly glad to be back in each other's company. Zia's eyes travelled to the other side of the room, and what she saw sent shivers like icy fingers crawling down her spine. The dark, mutated figures were as familiar as a recurring nightmare. They skulked in the shadows, eyeing the Narnians with unmasked suspicion and distrust. Zia's hand began to ache and she realised she was gripping the banister hard enough for the dry skin on her knuckles to crack. The dim hall full of friends and monsters was made even more unnerving by the blackness that shrouded everything on her left side. She took her time descending the stairs, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other so she wouldn't have to see what awaited her at the bottom. As she reached the last stair she lifted her head to see a pair of dark brown eyes staring at her.

"Look," Tigran said, catching her wrist as she started to move past him. "I didn't mean what I said in the hospital. Well, I meant it, but I didn't mean it in the way I said it."

"Was that an apology?" Zia asked. She suddenly felt exhausted again; the effects of the fire-flower juice must be wearing off.

"No, but it's the closest you're going to get." It was Brook who had spoken. He was looking at Tigran with a mixture of exasperation and underlying affection. "I'd take it if I were you." He grinned at her and a weight lifted off her shoulders.

"I also meant what I said," she told Tigran. "You are the rudest and most arrogant person I've ever met. But," she added as he opened his mouth to retort, "I don'tdon't know where I'd be without you. You were the one that rescued me from that dungeon, after all. I never thanked you for that."

Tigran blinked. "You're welcome."

Zia turned to go, but turned back as another thought struck her. "Oh, and I'm sorry for… what I did earlier. I won't say I didn't mean it, but I'm sorry anyway."

Brook, who had been watching the exchange with amusement twinkling in his eyes, let out a quiet chuckle. "I see what you mean now."

"Shut up," Tigran growled.

Zia frowned at the two of them. Tigran was staring at his feet and Brook was grinning like his face was going to split in half. She got the feeling something was going on, but before she could ask someone called her name. She knew who it was without turning around, and when she did turn her mouth stretched into a grin that perfectly mirrored Brook's.

Edmund beckoned to her and unthinkingly she threw herself at him, almost knocking him over. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest so she could feel his heartbeat under her cheek. He stank of blood, sweat and metal, but underneath his familiar musky scent was still detectable. She felt him flinch as he moved his right arm around her and drew back, feeling guilty.

"Sorry, I forgot about your arm." His face was covered in scratches and patches of dried blood. He had taken off his helmet and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead. He definitely looked worse for wear, but Lucy could soon fix that. "You should go and see your sister," she told him. "She's taken care of me once already."

He touched the side of her face delicately with his fingertips. "The cordial brought your sight back?"

Zia shook her head. "I don't think it does that." She wondered what her injured eye looked like to him. Did it make her look like a monster?

Edmund seemed to guess what she was thinking. He took her face between his hands, holding her steady so she couldn't move away from his gaze. It pained her to only be able to see one side of his face, but even with limited sight the affection and kindness in his eyes was unmistakeable. He smiled her favourite smile – the smile that made her feel like he could see right into her soul, and liked what he found there. His hands were cool and soothing on her skin, and for a while it seemed like just the two of them existed. Everything else was forgotten.

Someone cleared their throat, and both she and Edmund turned to see the High King standing awkwardly in front of them. Zia sighed inwardly and stepped away from Edmund, in turn receiving a grateful nod from Peter.

"Ed," the High King addressed his brother. "We need to decide what to do. I don't know how long I can stand being in the same room as creatures who allied with the White Witch – especially not when they glare at us so unnervingly."

Edmund glanced across the room. The creatures were beginning to grow restless, though they had been suspiciously withdrawn thus far. "I don't think they plan to harm us," he said. "If they did they would have tried to do so already."

"It's that fact that makes me uneasy," Peter replied. "Could it be that they want something from us?"

As he spoke, a thunderous rumbling echoed through the surrounding walls. The Giants were trying to break in.

"I think what they seek right now is protection. Anyone who leaves the castle will have small chance of surviving long enough to escape." Edmund ran a hand through his hair, leaving it spiked up at the back. "The only way we can solve this is by working with them to drive the Giants away." He looked at Peter. "I thought you said they were going back to the Wild Lands?"

"That's what I thought," Peter said. His voice was laced with remorse. "Something must have happened to make them change their minds. I should have made sure they would be true to their word before we left."

Edmund gripped his brother's shoulder. "It's not your fault," he said earnestly. "None of us could have predicted this would happen."

"They probably forgot what they promised ten minutes after promising it," put in Tigran. He had sensed an important discussion was happening and couldn't resist going over to give his opinion. Brook followed a few paces behind, looking as though he expected the discussion to soon become an argument. "They really aren't very smart. If they were we'd all be dead by now."

"Yes, thank you for your input," muttered Edmund. Tigran narrowed his eyes, not missing the sarcastic edge to Edmund's words. Brook put a hand on his arm, steadying him before he could make a retort. "But the main question is how to get rid of them."

Everyone looked at each other with hopeless expressions. Even Susan, who had joined the conversation a little after Tigran, seemed out of ideas. There was another sound like an explosion in the distance and the floor rocked unsteadily beneath their feet.

Zia closed her eyes, willing the despair away and forcing herself to stay calm. They were in need of a miracle. There was only one person she knew who was capable of producing such things. She had tried calling him before, but he had never come. She was sure he had heard her, but perhaps he had enough belief in the Pevensies to let them find a solution to their predicament themselves. He had entrusted Narnia to them, after all.

"Zia?" She felt a hand touch hers and opened her eyes to see Edmund looking at her with concern. "Are you alright? Does it hurt?"

Zia shook her head. "I'm fine. But, Ed, maybe you should try talking to them. If we join forces, even just for a little while, there might be enough of us to force the Giants to retreat."

Peter looked doubtful. "There's not much chance they'll listen," he said. "Half an hour ago they were trying to kill us."

"That's true, but it's the only plan we've got," Susan pointed out. "They may be our enemies, but right now we all face the same problem. That might be the best motivation to get them to cooperate with us."

"Are you saying all we have to do is ask them nicely and we can all join hands and skip off into the sunset?" Tigran sounded appalled. "Believe me, that's not how these creatures think."

"They're not all like the General," Zia interjected. "I'm willing to bet the only reason they're still here is because they think the White Witch is coming back."

"But if we tell them that isn't going to happen, they'll only want to kill us more!"

"They need someone to follow," Edmund said. He spoke quieter than everyone else, but somehow his words carried the most weight. "We can offer them an allegiance and allow them to leave freely as long as they accept you as their leader, Pete."

Tigran clenched his jaw, his voice rising in pitch. "And you think they'll just _agree_to something like that?"

Edmund's voice grew quieter still and his tone was ice-cold. "Right now it seems they have very little choice."

The Dryad opened his mouth but Brook quickly placed his hand over it, turning Tigran's retort into a series of unintelligible mumbles. "Don't argue with the King, Tigran."

Edmund smiled gratefully. "Thank you." He turned to Peter and indicated the room with a broad sweep of his arm. "It's up to you, Pete. Go and talk to them."


	32. Setting Things Right

**A/N:** This is the last chapter! Just an epilogue to go and we're finally done after... over two years... I'm sorry, I suck. Anyway, hope you guys like it.

* * *

**Setting Things Right**

Peter looked at his brother solemnly. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

A sceptical glance at the horde of unfamiliar shapes shifting in the shadows was the only sign of indecision Edmund showed before nodding purposefully. "Alright. We'll take Oreius with us too, just to be safe." He smiled a little as though enjoying a private joke. "I can't imagine them not taking us seriously with a Centaur standing at our side."

Peter raised his hand to tousle his brother's hair, taking care not to jostle him too much due to his injury. "Are you sure you don't want to go and see Lucy first?"

Edmund shook his head. "I don't want to risk the Giants completely destroying the castle because we wasted precious time. Come on, let's find Oreius and get this over with."

Seeing them start to leave without him, Tigran dug his elbow sharply into Brook's ribs and used his temporary surprise to wrestle his hand away from his mouth. "Hey, I'm coming too!"

Edmund's eyes flashed as he turned around. "I beg your pardon?" he demanded in a tone sharp enough to cut through steel.

"With all due respect, I must insist that I accompany you as well. I spent enough time around those brutes to get an insight into how they think. My knowledge could well be invaluable to you." All this was said without one glance in Edmund's direction.

Looking more than a little bemused, Peter inclined his head. "Fair enough. You might be right." He shrugged his shoulders as Edmund shot him a look of betrayal. "It can't hurt, Ed. Do you think you two could refrain from upsetting each other at least until this is all over?"

"Sure, sounds good," Tigran said airily. Zia only just stopped herself from slapping the smug expression right off his face.

Edmund curled his lip and for a moment looked as though he would do exactly that. Standing equidistant from each of them, Zia felt the air physically thicken with whatever it was the two boys were leaving unsaid. It was enough to make her want to knock their heads together in order to force some sense into them. After several excruciating moments of silence, Edmund was the one to finally back down. He took a step away from Tigran towards Zia and took her face between his hands, handling her like she was made of glass that had already begun to crack.

"As soon as this is over we'll find a way to get your eye fixed, I promise," he said.

"You're not leaving me here," she replied, trying to sound firm. It was hard to be forceful with him when his eyes were too large and dark against his skin, which was paling into an alarming shade of grey. "You're already weak. What if they decide to attack us again?"

"They won't," he said with an air of confidence that wasn't reflected in his expression. "None of us can afford to be distracted from the real threat here. If that happens, we're finished."

Over Edmund's shoulder, Zia's eyes were inexplicably drawn to Tigran, who instantly shifted his gaze across the hall without even blinking. He had been staring at her with a disturbing gleam in his dark eyes. She watched as Brook laid a hand on his shoulder, prompting Tigran's thin lips to morph into a somewhat poor imitation of his signature smirk as Brook ruffled his hair and smiled.

Zia quickly brought her attention back to Edmund before he could guess at exactly where it had been wandering. "Fine, but for Aslan's sake be careful."

"You worry too much." He swiftly ducked down to kiss her nose. He pulled away before she could change her mind, throwing one last wink over his shoulder as he jogged to catch up with Peter and Oreius. Tigran immediately disentangled himself from Brook and hurried to follow them. As the small group made their way across the wide hall, their steps echoing eerily in the hush that had now descended, Zia stepped over to Brook's side and nudged him lightly with her shoulder. It was time to get to the bottom of this whole unpleasant business, and if anyone knew what was going on in Tigran's head, it would be Brook.

"Do you have any idea what's going on with those two?" she asked, leaning close to his ear so that her words wouldn't travel. "Lately they seem like they constantly want to tear each other's throats out."

Brook shrugged, shifting his gaze to the floor. "Tigran's very up front about his feelings. Sometimes he blows things way out of proportion just by getting a little too carried away."

Unconvinced by his feeble words, Zia attempted to get him to look at her, but only succeeded in causing a blush to seep along Brook's cheekbones. The colour was barely perceptible on his tan skin, but still very much there. Spurred by his reaction, Zia asked, "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Not that I'm aware." He had begun to trace the pattern on the marble floor with his big toe, moving it with concise accuracy and a certain daintiness that was somewhat mesmerising.

Zia huffed. "I can tell you're lying."

"Really? I didn't think you were capable of seeing things that are right under your nose." His head jerked up, revealing a sharp glint in his eyes and the angry flush in his cheeks she had earlier mistaken for embarrassment.

"What?" Her voice had risen in pitch and she sensed the movement of several people standing close by turning to stare at her. Thankfully Susan had moved off to stand near the front of the group and was well out of earshot. "What on earth are you talking about?"

She thought he was going to grab hold of her shoulders and shake her like a rag doll, but instead his fingers closed around her arm and he roughly pulled her towards the corner opposite the staircase she and Susan had descended on the way down from the battlements. Brook's grip was tight enough to make her wince but still she didn't struggle, knowing full well he was stronger and would only hurt her more if she tried to escape. Even as she told herself this, something inside her was commanding her to fight back, to make him let her go and to hurt him for treating her this way. Desperately she shoved the urges down, remembering the last time she had given herself over to her instincts. Her nails were still crusted with blood where they had broken through Tigran's skin.

As soon as they were far enough away from the rest of the Narnians for them not to be able to hear their conversation, Brook released her and pressed the fingers on both hands to his temples. Zia rubbed the tender flesh where he had grabbed her. Long, slender bruises that perfectly matched the shapes of his fingers were already beginning to bloom. The bruises she had seen decorating Edmund's body after a particularly brutal (but still friendly) sparring match with Peter were always an ugly, mottled shade of purple when they were fresh, but the ones forming under her skin were a dark and sickly yellow. Curious, she prodded one of them and bit her lip against a yelp.

Hearing her sharp intake of breath, Brook lowered his hands from his face and finally looked her in the eyes. The rage was gone, as if by magic, leaving remorse and fatigue in its place. "I'm sorry." It was unclear whether he was apologising for the bruises or for his temper. Zia stayed still, watching his face as he struggled to put the thoughts in his head into coherent sentences. "I shouldn't have done that. It's just so frustrating for me to see him like this because of you. I guess I overreacted."

"Hold on," Zia said abruptly, "did you just say Tigran's behaving like an obnoxious brat because of _me_?"

"Basically, yes."

"How is it _my _fault?" she spluttered.

The Dryad tilted his head so that his eyes caught the light of a nearby candle, lending them an iridescent shine that highlighted the countless shades of green inside the irises. His eyes were the colour of spring, and yet full of a gentle sadness that contradicted their vibrancy.

"You really don't know?" he asked in a voice so soft she barely heard it. His expression made Zia certain she was missing something obvious.

"Why can't you just tell me what's going on?"

With a rueful smile, Brook finally lowered his gaze. Zia felt herself deflate as though his eyes had been pinning her against a wall with no way of escape.

"It's not my place to say," he explained. "Tigran will tell you when he's ready – if you let him."

"Why wouldn't I let him?" The conversation was tiring her out – Brook refused to stop speaking in riddles and she was no closer to getting a straight answer out of him than she had been five minutes ago.

Brook lifted his shoulders. "Look, just give him chance to speak when he finally plucks up the courage. He may not be afraid to let you know when he's angry about something, but sentiment isn't his strong suit. He prefers to attack things full on rather than get emotionally involved."

Zia passed a hand over her face, feeling a dull ache throbbing into life above her right eye. If she had thought matters were complicated before, it was nothing compared to the mess facing her now. Brook's shoulders had begun to sag as though his unhappiness was physically weighing him down. She had never seen him like this before and it had all started when they'd begun talking about Tigran – Tigran and his feelings. The way Brook spoke sounded like he'd had first-hand experience wrestling with that particular Dryad's private emotions and getting him to come to terms with them – or at least admit he had them in the first place. Added to the fact that Brook kept trying to subtly peer over her shoulder in the direction Tigran and the Kings had taken and it almost appeared that…

"Brook, do you have feelings for Tigran?"

The blond Dryad's mouth fell open. In the following twenty seconds the only sounds that came from his mouth were fragments of sentences and garbled words and choking noises, whilst his cheeks steadily grew redder and redder until they matched Zia's hair. She crossed her arms over her chest, knowing without confirmation that she had reached the jackpot. Eventually he snapped his mouth shut and instead pinched the bridge of his nose, taking slow, ragged breaths to calm himself down. Zia waited patiently for him to finish, trying not to let her lips morph into a satisfied smile at his disorientation.

_Serves him right, _cackled a voice that wasn't hers. Zia dug her teeth harshly into the inside of her lip, focusing on the pain in order to drive the malicious thought away. She had never truly taken Alexandra seriously when the physician had explained what might happen if she stayed away from her tree for too long, but now she was sure she could physically feel her sanity start to degrade like the bark on the underside of a fallen trunk. The darkest parts of her conscience were beginning to draw together, forming a cloud of anger, spite and jealousy thick enough to interrupt her thought patterns and alter her conscious movements and make her behave like – well, like she was possessed. If she didn't stop herself soon, there was no way of knowing what she would do – or who she would hurt.

When Brook lowered his hand from his face, his eyes had taken on a wide, vulnerable expression. Part of her felt guilty for broaching what was clearly a sensitive subject, whilst the rest was merely relieved she was still capable of feeling guilt.

"Don't tell him," Brook pleaded. "I don't know what I would do if he found out."

Zia blinked. "But you two seem so close, surely he must -?"

Brook laughed – a hard, bitter sound devoid of humour. "Surely he must know? Really, Zia. Did you not listen to anything I just said?"

"But surely if you just talked to him about it he'd understand. He might even feel the same."

The other Dryad sneered. "By the Mane, you're so naïve. If Tigran ever discovered what I feel for him, at best he would never speak to me again. At worst he would try and kill me. There's no room in between those things for him to come even remotely close to feeling the same way I do."

Zia's fingers curled into fists; before it had been an automatic reaction for when an argument was brought to boiling point, but now she found herself wrestling back the urge to launch herself at Brook and claw at his face with her fingernails.

"I refuse to believe that," she said adamantly. Her hands had begun to tremble; she crushed them against her ribs before she could lose control. "Tigran may be arrogant and self-righteous and egotistical but he's not a bad person. Plus you and he have been friends for years. He would never dream of hurting you in any way."

Brook's next words came out in a near-whisper. "You don't know him. You don't know him at all."

Before she could reply, the blast of a horn split the air. The sound was harsh and menacing like a declaration of war and definitely hadn't come from any Narnian horn. All eyes turned their attention to the centre of the room where two Humans and a Centaur stood facing their people. Their faces were set and determined, and behind them the crowd of Minotaurs, Boggles and Black Dwarves all bore similar expressions. A weight instantly lifted from Zia's chest; the negotiations had gone well and, together with their new allies, they were going to face the Giants.

Peter, Edmund and Oreius met Zia, Brook and Susan in front of the Narnians, who were methodically organising themselves back into ranks without being told to do so. Although Edmund had suffered the worst injuries by far, his face and voice were animated enough to bring statues to life as he quickly explained the plan he had mapped out in his head.

"The Captain has agreed to lead his troops straight out the front door and cause a distraction to give the rest of us time to sneak out the back. Some of us will use the secret gate that leads into the woods in order to come at the Giants from a different angle, and the rest will try and draw them away from the Cair to the bottom of the hill. If all goes to plan, we'll have them surrounded and they'll be far easier to take down. The Captain has also given us permission to use his army's catapults – they're positioned to the right and left of the castle about halfway between the gates and the forest." Edmund rubbed his hands together, clearly excited with the prospect of putting his plan into action. "Does anyone have any questions so far?"

"I have one."

Edmund turned to Brook, confusion flitting across his face at hearing the Dryad speak up. "Yes, what is it?"

"What the hell have you done with Tigran?"

For several moments the whole group was silent. Panic began to grow in Zia's chest – the very same panic that was turning Brook's features into a mask of horror. At first Tigran's absence hadn't registered with her at all – she had assumed he had detached himself from the others in order to relay the plan to the Narnian soldiers. Judging from Peter's sheepish expression, that clearly wasn't the case. The High King reached back to drag a hand through his hair, a guilty gesture he shared with his brother.

"Seeing as Tigran was once second-in-command of the Witch's army, they demanded we return him to them on the grounds that he is to become the next leader now the General has abandoned them," he clarified. "They don't yet know it was Tigran who killed him and we'll just have to hope that they don't find out."

"He's perfectly safe as long as he keeps his mouth shut and does as he's told," Edmund put in helpfully.

Brook stared at the Just King for several moments without blinking. "Did he at least agree to give himself over to the enemy?"

Peter nodded fervently, relieved that another argument seemed to have been avoided. "He knows the plan and has accepted his role. He's awaiting our instruction as we speak."

Scepticism remained obstinately in Brook's expression but he said nothing more, allowing Edmund to continue giving out his instructions. Once they were all clear on what was about to happen, the group split off into ones and twos and headed off to take up their respective positions. Before Edmund could disappear into the mass of soldiers, Zia grabbed the wrist of his good arm and pulled him round to face her.

"Are you going to see sense and get Lucy to look at your shoulder before we do this?"

"I'm starting to think you doubt me," he replied with a smile.

Zia sighed irritably. "I just don't want to see you get even more badly hurt because you're so intent on being some kind of martyr."

"Ouch." He pressed his hand dramatically over his heart, pouting even as he struggled to hold off a grin.

"Would you just take this seriously for a minute?" Zia exclaimed, exasperated by his theatrics when they were on the outskirts of a warzone. "Every time either of us go into battle I'm scared to death that I'll never see you again, or find you lying in a forgotten corner slowly bleeding to death, or -"

Edmund cut her off with a kiss. His fingers tangled in her hair, gentle yet possessive and suddenly Zia realised that he was just as frightened of losing her as she was of losing him. She wrapped her arms around his waist to pull him closer, holding him against her body with as much strength as she could muster. It seemed an age before he carefully pulled away, still running strands of her hair through his fingers. His eyes told her how much he hated goodbyes and that he refused to let this be one. With a slight nod of understanding she drew back, trying to ignore the sensation of her heart dropping as she released him.

"See you soon."

Although she tried her hardest to push it away, Zia couldn't help but sense a false promise behind his words.

* * *

As per Edmund's instructions, Susan, Zia and the other archers joined the party launching a surprise attack from inside the forest by leaving the castle through the back gate – the very same gate Zia had watched Edmund disappear through the night she followed him from the beach. Nostalgic memories caused her fingers to reach out and lightly brush the loops of tarnished metal before she remembered where she was and what they were doing and hurriedly retracted her hand.

Dusk had fallen and shadows bunched together around the trees, concealing protruding roots and rabbit holes from view as they crept along the outside of the stone wall towards the front of the castle. Distant roars and the clash of metal reached their ears, though the stillness of the night muffled every sound, including their own footsteps. They didn't especially need to be quiet, the chaos already masked their approach enough for them not to be detected even without taking into account the relative stupidity of their adversaries, but the Narnians found a sense of comfort in making sure there was truly no way they could be spotted until it was too late.

Before they rounded the final corner that wound bring them into view of the Giants, Edmund brought the company to a halt. Zia was too far back to see the King, but she could picture the optimistic grin that would be on his face as he and Oreius shook hands and wished each other luck. Her heart ached for the chance to see that grin one more time, but instead she could only smile encouragingly at Susan, who was by her side and looking as determined and elegant as ever. She had underestimated how much of a comfort the eldest Queen had come to be; the smile she offered in return mirrored the one Nina would have given her to help quell her anxiety. She made a mental note to thank Susan later just as the single, familiar note of a Narnian horn made her jump and the youngest of the Pevensie brothers led the party into battle.

The carnage left behind by struggle that had already taken place in front of the Cair was horrendous. Fresh bodies had been added to the ones accumulated from the earlier fight; wounds still dripped blood onto the courtyard's cobblestones, staining them red. The ground was damp and slick with fluid, turning the Narnians' charge into a desperate scramble to keep their footing as they got closer to the centre of the fight. Most of Tigran's army were still standing, including Tigran himself, though their numbers appeared visibly depleted. They had managed to fell two of the Giants already, bringing down most of the castle's surrounding wall along with them.

Of the two dozen Giants that had originally marched for the Cair, eight had been stopped by the archers' arrows, three were buried by the torrent of stone brought down by the destruction of one of the castle's towers and two had been killed by the Narnians' new allies. A further half a dozen of them seemed to have wandered off of their own accord after becoming hungry or bored, leaving the five most resolute still diligently attempting to bring the Cair to its knees. So far Tigran's strategy seemed to revolve around targeting one Giant at a time whilst trying not to get crushed under the others' stampeding feet. There weren't enough soldiers to do this effectively and make use of the catapults at the same time, resulting in numerous casualties and extremely slow progress.

As soon as Edmund's party broke out of the trees, the soldiers already in battle increased their efforts tenfold. Zia marvelled at the peculiarity of seeing creatures that had been their most feared opponents fight side by side with Peter and Edmund, and was struck with the thought that, had the White Witch never come to power, there would have been no rivalry between Fauns and Minotaurs at all. Maybe the notion of all Narnians living in peace together wasn't so hopeless after all.

A yell from somewhere to her left brought Zia back to reality. Susan and the archers who were able to climb were moving with the intention of using the trees as a vantage point from which to shoot. The Centaurs and those unable to climb had already set off to join the battle on the ground. The shout Zia had heard was Susan commanding her to hurry up and start climbing. She quickly obeyed. The slightly painful sensation of rough bark scraping against her palms and the soles of her feet seemed to bring new life to her limbs, allowing her to reach the highest branches of her chosen tree within seconds. The air smelled far less foul this high up; Zia breathed as much of it into her lungs as they would allow and scanned the ground for signs of Edmund. He had located a crossbow and was hurriedly tying a length of rope to the shaft of a bolt. Several Dwarves were doing the same, their stubby fingers working at an astounding pace to secure the knots.

Loud rustling in the tree beside hers alerted Zia to the fact that the others had now reached their positions. The Fauns were surprisingly adept at climbing trees and many looked very pleased with themselves as they prepared their bows. Susan had barely given the command before their arrows were flying towards the nearest Giant, who up until that point had been throwing huge rocks at the Cair's stained glass windows. He let out a bellow of surprise as the arrows found his chest, the sheer force of the onslaught knocking him off his feet. The earth shuddered as his behind connected with it, prompting the archers to cling to their trees for dear life as they swayed violently.

At the top of the slope, Edmund's plan to bring down one of the Giants was being put into action. He, several Dwarves and a couple of Centaurs (including Davlon, who was back on his feet and looking healthier than ever) had formed a circle around it, aiming their crossbows at the flabby expanse of its chest and arms. Before the Giant could work out what was happening, the bolts were buried deep beneath his skin and the ropes were being tugged, yanking him off balance and bringing him crashing down onto his back. Stunned and winded from the fall, he lay completely still and Edmund seized the opportunity to send his troops scrambling up onto the heaving chest to deliver a round of fatal blows.

Up in the branches, the archers cheered. There were only three Giants left standing and it appeared as though the end was in sight. Zia twisted round on her branch to grin at Susan, but her exuberance quickly melted into horror at the look of pure fear in the Queen's eyes. The warning had barely left Susan's mouth before the world gave a sickening lurch, sending Zia tumbling down towards the ground below.

* * *

The Giant who had seized the tree next to Susan's was by far the biggest of the lot. He towered above the treetops and blocked out half the sky. Susan heard her own scream as though it came from miles away as the Giant drew back his arm and sent his makeshift javelin hurtling towards the castle. Susan watched in horror, unable to look away and below the entire battle came to a standstill as time seemed to slow down. Luckily, Giants had exceptionally poor aims. The root-end of the tree barely grazed the white stone, leaving a jagged hole in the west wing before continuing its journey and vanishing out of sight.

The Gentle Queen let out a breath of relief. The hole would take a lot of effort to repair, but considering the damage that could have been done, they had been exceptionally lucky. She prayed that luck would hold until all the Giants were dead.

With a grunt of frustration, the Giant that had thrown the tree reached down to grasp another, but this time he didn't get very far. The forest suddenly exploded with movement, whoops and yells as seemingly every Dryad in Western Wood leapt out from under the trees. Tigran's clan of expert swordsmen charged straight at the Giant's feet, jeering and taunting as they dodged his flailing limbs in a wild dance that was almost impossible to follow. Meanwhile Maia and her female archers used the Giant's distraction to form a wide circle around him and send an endless stream of arrows towards his chest, neck and face, and all the while more and more Dryads came hurtling out of nowhere to join the fight. It seemed luck was definitely on their side that night.

Seeing their third comrade fall sent the remaining two Giants into a frenzy. Their enraged bellows caused the very air to tremble whilst Centaurs, Minotaurs and Dryads alike scurried out of range of their feet and fists. Susan heard Edmund call out, but his words were completely drowned out by the noise. She turned to see her archers clutching the tree trunks, their eyes wide with terror beneath their curly hair. She called out to them, urging them to climb down, but fear and panic had rendered them unable to move. Susan gripped the branch underneath her with grim determination. If they couldn't get themselves down, she wasn't going anywhere either.

Edmund's voice reached Susan's ears for the second time before a deafening sound like the crack of a whip cut through the air. The Gentle Queen barely had enough time to turn towards the source of the noise before an enormous boulder fell from the sky, collided with a Giant's head and sent him careening sideways into his comrade. Their limbs became tangled instantly, sending them both toppling in a mess of thrashing arms and kicking legs. A chorus of victory shouts erupted from below as the Giants tried in vain to free themselves from each other before they were overwhelmed by cheering Narnians and their misery was swiftly put to an end.

After taking a moment to catch her breath, Susan carefully inched her way down from the boughs of the tree. Her knees almost buckled as her feet made contact with the ground, but she managed to stay upright. Her archers gathered around her, and as the pounding in her ears subsided she became aware that, although pale and shaken, all of them were alive and unhurt. All except one.

"Where's Zia?"

Susan turned to face her younger brother as he stumbled towards her, clutching his left arm with blood-soaked fingers. He took one look at her face and turned even paler beneath the grime coating his skin, as though there wasn't a drop of blood left in his body. Susan caught him just as he collapsed, lowering him to the ground before starting to strip him of his armour.

"Where is she?" he asked again. His eyes were bright as if with fever, his voice coming out as barely a whisper despite his best efforts to speak.

"Don't move," Susan commanded sternly. The grip Edmund had on her arm was surprisingly strong considering he was only half-conscious. "You'll make yourself worse."

"Edmund!" Tigran appeared out of nowhere and dropped down beside the King, his eyes raking over Edmund's broken body. Susan was too shocked to protest as the Dryad took her brother's hand and clutched it as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "Where is she, Edmund? Tell me!"

Edmund could only shake his head, groaning at the bolts of pain shooting down his arm with the movement. With an anguished cry, Tigran dropped his head onto Edmund's chest, barely noticing the warm fluid smearing across his skin as he did so. The Dryad began to shake and didn't resist Susan's touch as she took him by the shoulders and lifted him away from her brother. His grip on Edmund's hand didn't relinquish and Susan had to physically pry his fingers off before making him stand up. To her relief, she saw Brook coming towards them, but the look on his face soon replaced the relief with dread.

"Your majesty, we've found Zia. She -"

Tigran stirred at Brook's voice and with a small cry Brook gathered his best friend into his arms, using the last of his remaining strength to keep Tigran upright. Brook's eyes locked with Susan's and an unspoken understanding passed between them.

"I'll take care of Edmund," Susan said gently. "But I think it will be best we don't tell him until he's well enough. There's no telling what the shock will do to him, especially while he's in this state."

Brook nodded. "Maia's with her now. She's home." He shifted Tigran's limp body until his friend's head lay more comfortably on his shoulder before turning away. "Which is where we should be going," he said, speaking softly into the blonde's hair.

"Wait!" Susan called after him. "I - I'm very grateful to you both. Be sure to tell him that when he wakes up."

Brook returned Susan's smile, though he could scarcely bring himself to look at her whilst tears flowed freely down her face. "It has been an honour, my queen. Farewell."

* * *

_Wake up, my child._

Zia screwed her eyes up in protest to the voice that was suddenly inside her head. Where had it come from? There had only been white noise in there before and she had been enjoying the peace. But the voice was familiar, deep and rich, as though it came from the earth itself. She curled her hands into fists, her skin dragging over something soft and grainy that sifted through her fingers like sand. She slowly became aware of a salty tang in the air and the fact that her mouth tasted like dry cotton. It was this realisation that finally persuaded her eyes to open.

The first thing she saw was an expanse of blue sky dotted here and there with delicate wisps of white. The blue was unlike any she had ever seen, and the brightness of the sun was enough to make her eyes ache, though it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. There was something strange about what she was seeing, something that didn't make sense, but her thoughts were too hazy to pinpoint what it was. She shifted her fingers again, grabbing a handful of whatever she was lying on and lifting it to her face. It wassand, though not the brownish yellow kind that was on the beach she used to visit with the boy. This sand was almost pure white and so fine that almost all of it had fallen through the gaps in her fingers in the time it had taken to raise her hand. If this was sand, the sea ought not to be far away.

"I see you're finally awake."

There was that voice again, only this time it hadn't come from inside her mind. Turning her head, she caught sight of something glistening on the horizon. So she had been right, this _was _a beach, and what she had thought was white noise was actually the sound of waves. What was she doing on a beach? She was certain she had never been here before, even if the rest of her thoughts were still a little fuzzy. What was going on?

She pushed herself into a sitting position, feeling a tingling rush of energy flood her body. It felt like waking up for the first time after months of hibernation, though if that was the case then she must have overslept – the temperature was far too warm for spring. Why hadn't Nina woken her?

Before she could ponder this question further, a deep rumble came from behind her. Startled, she twisted around to find the source, and her arms almost gave out in surprise.

Standing before her was the biggest lion she had ever seen – not that she'd seen many lions, they weren't very common in Narnia. Narnia? What was that? Her thoughts were contradicting themselves, and all the while the Lion just stood and watched her, its amber eyes shining like molten gold in the sunlight.

Though her mind was full of questions, the one that came out of her mouth first was, "Where am I?"

The Lion smiled, though how she could tell it was smiling, Zia didn't know. "You are at the very End of the World, my child."

There must have been some kind of magic at work, for Zia felt none of the panic she ought to have felt upon hearing those words. Instead, she calmly asked, "Am I dead?"

At this, the Lion made a very un-Lion-like sound that Zia could have sworn was a chuckle. "No, dear one. If you were dead, you would not be here. If you were dead, you would be on the other side of those mountains."

Zia followed the Lion's gaze and felt something lurch inside her chest. In the distance, far out to the east beyond the sun, was a mountain range. The moment she set eyes on it, Zia was sure the mountain range couldn't possibly belong to the living world. For although the mountains were so tall that they blocked out the sky, there was not one patch of snow on their lush green faces.

"Aslan's country," she whispered. She turned back to the Lion, who had now resumed watching her with sombre eyes. "Hello Aslan."

Aslan inclined his head. His beautiful tawny mane caught the light and scattered it in different directions almost like a diamond would, and yet it looked so soft that Zia longed to bury her hands in it. She restrained herself for fear that doing so would be disrespectful, instead scrambling to her feet so she could curtsey.

"If you don't mind my asking, sire," she said hesitantly, "what am I doing here?"

"I have brought you here because there is something I must ask you," Aslan replied. Behind the resonant tones of his powerful voice, there was a deep, humble sadness that would have broken Zia's heart had she been able to feel any sort of pain at all.

"Anything," she said.

The Great Lion approached her, his enormous paws making no sound on the soft sand. The closer he got, the bigger and more terrifying he looked, but still Zia didn't feel particularly afraid. Even his wickedly sharp claws and terrible teeth didn't frighten her and yet there was something about him that made her feel a tiny bit nervous. She knew without a doubt that he could tear her to pieces if he chose to and she wouldn't even have time to scream. The kindness in his eyes reassured her that he would do nothing of the sort, but that didn't mean she shouldn't give him the utmost respect.

When he was close enough for Zia to count his whiskers, Aslan stopped walking and folded his back legs beneath him, sitting on the sand like a tame cat. He never once removed his eyes from Zia's, and though she couldn't bear to hold his gaze, Zia felt like she had no other choice.

"The question I must ask you, dear one, is perhaps the most simple of all questions and yet it is the most complex at the same time. Do you think you can answer it truthfully?"

Biting her lip, Zia nodded. "I'll try my best."

"Then here it is: Are you happy?"

At first, Zia could only stare. Surely Aslan knew the answer to that? Here at the End of the World, with the sun beating down on white sand and the waves crashing in the distance, how could anyone be anything but happy? Then it started to dawn on her; the answer to that question wasn't so simple after all. Up until now her thoughts had been pleasantly quiet, like puffs of cloud drifting slowly through her mind, but now they began to grow in volume and clarity until the noise in her head was like a waterfall pounding relentlessly against her skull. Aslan remained completely still as images of everything that had happened in the past six years flashed through her brain like bolts of lightning. Seeing Edmund at the beach. The look on Nina's face when she saw the Pevensies. Dancing with Edmund at the Solstice party. Watching the White Witch's army destroy Dancing Lawn. Seeing Edmund again. Nina's death. Saving Edmund's life. Watching Pelerine die in Davlon's arms. Edmund kissing her for the first time. Tigran telling her Breejit was dead. Laying on the beach with Edmund. Tigran trying to persuade her to go back with him. Edmund telling her he loved her. Edmund. Edmund, Edmund, _Edmund_!

The thud of her knees hitting the sand was enough to finally wrench her from the whirlpool of memories threatening to drown her. She clutched both sides of her head between her hands, rocking forward until her forehead rested on her trembling knees. She stayed like that for an immeasurable length of time, sucking down lungfuls of cool air until the nausea subsided and she could think clearly once again.

When she raised her head, Aslan was lying down with his front legs stretched out in front of him, his paws almost brushing her knees. Taking another deep, shaky breath, Zia rose unsteadily to her feet and watched as Aslan did the same. His eyes were full of compassion and love, and Zia had a feeling he knew what she was thinking.

"Do not be afraid, child," said Aslan gently. "You must do what you think is right. This decision is yours to make, and yours alone."

Gazing out towards the distant ocean, Zia let Aslan's words sink through her skin and nestle in her heart, and in doing so she felt a new determination flood her body. It suddenly dawned on her that she could see the entire expanse of glittering water where it stretched from one end of the horizon to the other; she was no longer blind. Lifting her arms, she realised that the wounds the Harpy had inflicted on her had completely healed. For some reason this didn't surprise her – there was no way to underestimate Aslan's power.

When she looked at the Lion again, her jaw was set. "I think you already know the answer to the question you asked," she said. "And I think – no, I'm certain – you know what it is I'm going to say next."

Aslan smiled. "I do indeed. As long as it is what you want, then I will continue to watch over you and be content in the knowledge that you are doing what makes you happy."

Zia nodded. "I will be happy, Aslan. I promise."

"In that case," said the Lion, "I will open a door for you, and you will return to Narnia with my blessing."

"Thank you." Her eyes followed the lines and contours of his beautiful face once again, and this time a feeling of inescapable sadness settled over her heart.

Aslan seemed to guess what she was thinking. "This may be the first and last time we meet, but that doesn't mean you won't see me again. I will always be with you, my child."

"Can I -?" she asked, reaching tentatively for him. He gave a gentle nod, tilting his head to allow her to bury her hands beneath the honey strands of his mane. She had never felt anything so gloriously soft and she never would again. Up close, Aslan's mane smelled of tulips and sweet grass – of springtime and of home. She felt his chest rumble and realised a moment later that he was purring.

Laughing, she withdrew her hands. Aslan shook out his mane, looking at her knowingly as if waiting for her to say something he had already heard in her thoughts.

"Okay Aslan, I'm ready," she said. Her chest swelled with a mixture of sorrow for what she would be leaving behind and anticipation for what was to come.

Aslan smiled one last time, and lifted his muzzle to blow gently on her face. "Then it is time to say goodbye."


	33. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Turning of the Seasons**

Autumn arrived soon after the battle at Cair Paravel. It seemed to descend during the night, leaving Western Wood ablaze with a palette of warm, vibrant colours. The wind blowing in from the ocean was chilly, but nowhere near as bitter as it would get by the time winter came. The water itself was more grey than blue even though patches of pale sky could be seen through breaks in the clouds.

Zia stood at the edge of the forest, half concealed by shadows, and watched her dark stranger make his way towards the incoming tide. He stopped a few feet shy of the white foam and folded his legs underneath him, wrapping his cloak tightly around his body as he settled on the sand. It was far too cold for swimming; the wind's biting chill chased goosebumps down Zia's bare arms. The forest was dying all around her, but she didn't feel the need to mourn. This year, instead of an end, autumn would bring a beginning.

He hadn't noticed her yet, although he would only need to turn his head slightly for the colour of her hair to catch his eye. His gaze was directed towards the horizon, though not at anything in particular. She let out a puff of air, watching it mist in front of her eyes. It was a faint noise, and for a moment she feared the wind would snatch it away, but then his head turned towards her. He got to his feet as if on impulse, and then froze. Cautiously, unsure of how he would react, Zia took careful steps towards him, feeling her feet leave hesitant prints in the sand until she was standing right in front of him, close enough to touch but still a thousand miles away.

He was perfectly silent, and she was perfectly still. A thousand emotions swirled in his eyes and he blinked hard, as though not quite able to believe she was really there. His fingers twitched a couple of times before he slowly raised his hand, bringing it to rest on her smooth, warm cheek. Something in his eyes sparked, and Zia's heart gave an answering thump.

"Ed," she whispered, "Say something."

"Zia," he breathed, and she buried her face in his chest.

* * *

So began a time of peace and prosperity the likes of which had never been known in Narnia. Old enemies became new friends and the four children of Adam and Eve ruled side by side. Though none of them ever married, the Just King and the red-haired Dryad were practically inseparable. Before, her place among the Kings and Queens had was under constant debate, but now there was little or no question about her right to be by the Just King's side. She had proven herself worthy of warrior status, and won Edmund's heart in the process.

It seemed the Golden Age would last forever, but as with all perfect things, ruin is never far away.

* * *

**A/N: **It's finally finished! I have some ideas for a sequel but I don't know if I should let it die and move on to something else. If you particularly want a sequel then please feel free to let me know.

Again, thank you all for being so lovely/awesome/supportive, and a special thank you to my beta and friend Pendragon2601 for just being amazing.

'Til next time!


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